


Every Second (I’ll be running)

by fw_feathers (mia826)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Kurosaki Ichigo, Fix-It of Sorts, For Want of a Nail, Gen, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, UraIchi Week 2018, if Ichigo had been born as Shiba Ichigo, mild PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-14 21:25:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia826/pseuds/fw_feathers
Summary: A huge roar echoes through the space, freezing everyone in the room.“You didn’t tell us your zanpakuto spirit is a giant sea serpent, Ichigo-san,” Kisuke says mildly.“Ah,” Ichigo says, shading his eyes with a hand. “Should I have mentioned that?”





	1. your light

Souls combine and split. It’s a phenomenon easily observable in Hollows and, though rarer, even in a few of the older clans of Soul Society. Though consumption and production seem to be complete opposites, in the end, they are both part of the same process. And so, as souls combine and split, and as humans interact and connect, it only makes sense that some would come away with a bond that cannot be broken, not even by the cycle of death and rebirth.

This is the layman’s explanation for soulmates.

Or, at least, the layman’s explanation, diluted by the scientific jargon Yoruichi so loves to tease Kisuke for.

“You take all the romance out of it,” she says, curled up on the windowsill of his office, during one of the few times Hiyori managed to pull him out of his underground labs.

“Technically, romance isn’t even a requirement,” he points out, stamping his signature onto yet another paper. Hiyori is a good lieutenant, albeit a grumpy one. He no longer has to sort out what’s important and what could be signed off at a glance. And he’s pretty sure the first year he had to was just her, ah, adjusting to his presence. “I mean, look at Ukitake-taichou and Kyouraku-taichou. Oldest known soul bond in Seireitei-”

“Oldest unconfirmed soul bond,” Yoruichi interjects, amused now. She twists in her seat, until her knees are bent to fit in the space while she rests on her side to face him.

“Oldest unconfirmed soul bond, portraying every known symptom of being bonded that can be discerned in public,” Kisuke corrects himself. “Such as a near-prescient knowledge of each other’s location or presence, a seeming awareness of the other’s thoughts and/or feelings, and a visible dislike of being apart for longer than a certain period of time.”

Yoruichi barks out a laugh, her lips curling into a cat’s smile. “Are you _stalking_ our fellow captains, Kisuke?” She presses a hand to her chest, trying to sound scandalized. All it does is make her look elated instead.

“They’re just things I observed,” he protests lightly. Thud, thud. The stamp punctuates a pause in the conversation. He tilts his head, peeking at Yoruichi out of the corner of his eye.

She’s staring at her forearm, her smile softening to something small and fierce. Though her skin is covered by her sleeve, Kisuke knows she’s looking at the little sparrow on a pawprint marking her near the inside of her elbow. “Don’t worry, Kisuke,” Yoruichi says, her mind already on the little soul that splutters and blushes and follows her around with wide-eyed devotion. “I’m sure you’ll find yours one day.”

Kisuke hums and says nothing, turning back to the paperwork the Eighth Division captain likes to curse so much.

Soul bonds don’t have to be romantic in nature, no matter how much young souls and literature want them to be. But does it really matter, in the end? To find the one person in the universe who can understand you fully, who will _accept_ you fully, from what you were to what you are and to what you will be – isn’t that all anyone really wants? Whether you will sleep with them, or live with them, or stay monogamous with them… does it really matter?

Kisuke stamps another report. Red ink seeps out from under the rubber, sinking into the paper underneath.

 

* * *

 

The thing is, with the long lifespans that souls have, it is entirely possible to live for centuries without meeting your soulmate. There are records of souls that meet their bonded, only to die moments later, or some other tragedy that would lose them the chance to solidify the bond.

A soul is supposed to know if they have a soulmate. An emptiness in their chest; the urge to leave and search for something that cannot be named – Kisuke has read them all. And the universe gifts them with knowledge as well: when their soulmate enters Soul Society, they will know. The world will seem brighter. The emptiness will fill, even if only a little; the urge to leave and search will become an eagerness to find.

Kisuke has read them all. Then he puts them away.

He does not think of the soft longing curled in the space under his diaphragm. Everyone longs for a soulmate. There is no need to examine the feeling further.

(In his darkest nights – when the choices he’s made haunt him; or when the constant loneliness is especially deep – he wonders if it’s really a sign he has a soulmate. He wonders if it’s just wishful thinking to assume so. He’s too biased to find the answer.)

(He’s too terrified of finding the answer.)

The thing is, people aren’t infallible. Soul bonds aren’t infallible. And even distance can wear at bonds untouchable by time.

So a few months into his exile, Kisuke’s soulmate is born in Seiritei, to two ecstatic shinigami and their joyful clan. And Kisuke—

—grieving, guilty, betrayed Kisuke, trapped in the Land of the Living, with only the people he’s failed as his companions—

—notices.

And brushes it off.

He’s only adjusting to the gigai and the Human World. That’s all.

 

* * *

 

Shiba Ichigo almost hits a hundred years old before he decides, that’s it, he’s done, he refuses to be compared to Kaien any longer.

So what if his cousin is good at kidou and he isn’t? His entire family is better than him at kidou. What’s new? And so what if his cousin graduated the Shinigami Academy in just two years? Let them sit on their asses and wait. He’ll graduate in just a year, like Ichimaru Gin. What’ll they have to say about Kaien then?

The next day, he wakes up to Kukaku screaming in horror at the burnt amber strands splayed across his pillow.

He gets a lot of flak for that. The worst one is when Kaien passes by for a visit, gets one look at his bleached hair, and spends the next ten minutes crying about it. Ichigo swears he almost died from that. The guy had made sure to throw an arm around his neck, almost bending him in half, just so he couldn’t escape.

(Did he mention how dramatic his entire family is? Small wonder people question if he’s adopted. There are times when he questions it himself.)

“Growing out your hair wasn’t enough for you?” Kaien asks, once the drama is over and Ichigo’s managed to wrangle him into their usual zanjutsu training session. One day, Ichigo swears it’ll be a sparring match. But for now, he lets his shinai drop to finger the strands brushing the back of his neck.

“You know it isn’t,” he says.

Kaien hums. “Oh, hey-” His eyes light up, a mischievous grin stretching across his face. “-here’s a trick they won’t teach you in the Academy. You can use it to whoop any stubborn idiot’s ass.”

“Stubborn idiots like you?” Ichigo shoots back, returning to a ready position. Kaien laughs, then shows him how to dart around his opponent and twist his sword to smack them in the, well, ass.

And that was that.

For better or for worse, Kaien is also his favorite relative.

 

* * *

 

He enters the Academy with his pack slung over his back and his head held high. He had expected the wide eyes, the whispers, even the instructors’ grinning, “Oho, Shiba Ichigo, is it?” He had also expected those grins dropping as he went through the reiryoku exam. His reiatsu flares out of the spelled glass sphere they had handed him, bright as the rays of a miniature sun.

(He will blame his large reiatsu reserves and shitty kidou skills on his dad until his dying day. His mom had only been Fifth Seat, after all. His dad had already been gunning for captainship by then.)

What he hadn’t expected were the whispers of “ _two_ prodigies?” and the rumors of a scrawny runt _shattering_ a reiryoku orb.

Ichigo’s out to make a name for himself, here. A name strong enough, and known enough, that people would stop comparing him to his cousin. Then he can sit back and live the rest of his life in peace.

So he tosses his pack into his room and hunts down this scrawny runt. Gotta check out his competition for the title of “this generation’s prodigy,” right?

This is how he meets Hitsugaya Toshiro.

 

* * *

 

Between the two of them, they manage to grind the Academy curriculum to dust with the speed of a rampaging Hollow. Ichigo’s surprised to find that he enjoys having a rival. He never did spend that much time with any of his cousins his age. He’s closer to Kaien and his siblings, but they don’t count. Kukaku enjoys kicking him around too much; Ganju’s too young to be anything but a brat; and Kaien is too busy to come around all that often. The less said about his crazy dad, the better.

Toshiro can keep up with him, and then some. (The kid isn’t even around, and already Ichigo can hear “That’s Hitsugaya to you!”)

Ichigo is fucking _good_ at zanjutsu. With his battle instincts, his learning head start, and sheer raw talent, he can keep ahead of Toshiro in that field. He’s also faster at hohou, and not just because he’s taller, dammit. Using that as an excuse to rub his face into a certain someone’s skill in kidou is ridiculous. Toshiro does it anyway, just to spite him.

Intellect-wise, they’re neck and neck. There are weekly betting pools on which one of them will top the upcoming written test. Only in the darkest corner of his mind will Ichigo admit that the kid is smarter than he is. If Ichigo knows instinctively that a stutter in movement means an opening, Toshiro searches for openings like that and plans how to take his opponent down.

Like when he ducks around Ichigo’s longer reach in their hakudo spars, using his speed and size to kick the taller boy’s ass.

The rivalry does grow into something that resembles respect. By the end of their seventh month, there’s an unspoken agreement that they’re both going to graduate within the year.

There isn’t an “or else” attached. Their individual reasons won’t allow for any result other than that.

A month away from graduation, they collapse to the ground after a spar and talk about what Division they’re planning on entering.

“I’m going for the Tenth,” Toshiro says bluntly, glaring down at his water gourd. It takes a while for Ichigo to reply.

“You want to serve under _my old man?_ ” Incredulity makes Ichigo’s eyes bug out and his face turn red. Or maybe that was from spending the last half minute choking on his own water. “Have you met the guy? No, even better – haven’t you been listening to me at all? Your chronic perfectionism is going to die an ugly death within a _week_.”

A vein in Toshiro’s forehead twitches. “The Tenth Division is known for the support it gives its recruits-”

“Dead. Eradicated. Poof.” Ichigo spreads his hands wide, then lets them drop. He whistles the sound of a sad firework for extra emphasis.

Toshiro blinks. His hand snaps forward.

So does Ichigo’s, catching the (thankfully) corked gourd aimed for his head.

“I need a Division that won’t treat me like a child, idiot!”

Ichigo stares at the panting Toshiro, who probably isn’t aware he’d shot to his feet. He sighs, and tosses the gourd back in a gentler arc. Toshiro catches it with a scowl. “I’ll give you that,” Ichigo admits, leaning back on his arms to glare at the sky. “Tou-san will mess with you til you snap, for sure. But he won’t hold you back.”

“Hmph.” Toshiro returns to his seat, stirring up a cloud of dust. They both ignore it. Not like it can make them look any worse than they already do, after hours of trying to beat each other up. “They already invited me anyway,” he adds, fiddling with the sash tied around his gourd. “My Academy sponsor’s in that Division.”

Ichigo’s expression flattens. “Matsumoto-fukutaichou, right?” And hadn’t that been a surprise? It’s rare for the lieutenant to visit the clan compound, despite her standing invitation, and only ever with either her fellow lieutenant, Kaien, or with her captain. This New Year’s, both had managed to wrangle her into meeting with them at the nearby shrine. All it took was one question about a white-haired brat, and Ichigo knew exactly who to blame for his rival (and, maybe, friend). “Good luck with that. Dad swears she’s as bad as he is. She just can’t slack off because _he_ slacks off first.”

Toshiro snorts. But the look on his face is answer enough. _Whatever it takes,_ those hard, teal eyes say. A smirk tugs on Ichigo’s lips. Who is he to argue with that?

“Which one are you going for?” Toshiro says, turning the question on Ichigo. Ichigo groans, slapping a hand over his face.

“I got invited into the Eleventh,” he admits. Toshiro shoots him a disbelieving look.

“You do realize-”

“I know!” Ichigo barely avoids pitching his voice up into a whine. “Apparently they liked how I trashed some of their drunk punks harassing some students – you remember those,” Toshiro nods. “Seriously, grown men bullying kids, what the hell.” Ichigo takes a moment to rub his hair – as if that would get rid of his frustration.

Toshiro’s eyes are sharp. He doesn’t look away. “But you’re considering it.”

The corner of Ichigo’s mouth turns down. “Let’s face it,” he says, crossing his arms with a scowl. “At least the Eleventh’s the furthest place I can get to from my idiot dad and my cousin.”

“Not if you walked into the Twelfth,” Toshiro points out, his lips stretching in a toothy grin.

Ichigo doesn’t even bother hiding his shudder. “If I walked into the Twelfth, I have a feeling I won’t be walking back out. Their captain gives me the _creeps._ ”

Toshiro throws back his head and laughs.

 

* * *

 

Later, Ichigo thinks of the real reason he chose the Eleventh. Walking into the barracks, half an ear turned to the seated officer briefing him, he wonders if Toshiro knows that he knows.

There is no hiding the haunted look in Toshiro’s eyes. Only a fool would miss it. If Toshiro doesn’t learn his zanpakuto’s name within the year, Ichigo will eat his own sword. And from what little Matsumoto has told him, Toshiro’s been dreaming of his zanpakuto spirit before he even entered the Academy.

Ichigo may have years of sword training under his belt, but Toshiro’s already ahead of him where it counts. Ichigo has had dreams, but he doesn’t remember much from them. Just a bare cliff, the roar of the sea in his ears, and the full moon, high above.

He needs to get stronger still. Stronger and stronger, until he’s strong enough to break through-

His steps falter.

“Shiba?”

He twitches, then turns to the Third Seat showing him around. “Sorry,” Ichigo grunts. “Lost in thought.”

The man grins, the red paint in the corners of his eyes turning it feral. “Oh don’t worry,” he says. “We’ll knock that out of you soon enough.”

Ichigo studies the Third Seat. Tall, broad-shouldered, and holding his zanpakuto propped over his shoulder. Forget the fact that he shouldn’t be carrying it in the first place; the guy won’t even wear it properly.

Raising a single eyebrow, Ichigo says, “You can try.”

The man barks out a laugh, and slaps Ichigo on the back for good measure. Ichigo grits his teeth and holds back a wheeze. “Perfect,” the Third Seat says, eyes bright with anticipation and glee. “You’ll do just fine, Shiba. Even if you are a noble.”

Ichigo rolls his eyes but lets it go. It’s not the first time he’s heard it, and it won’t be the last. He drops his things onto his bed and follows his now more enthusiastic superior outside. “For the fresh recruits’ welcome party,” the man says, in the same way Kukaku would say “idiot merchants I can swindle.”

Ichigo joined the Eleventh Division because he needs to grow stronger. As the strongest squad, where promotion only happens by kicking your superior’s ass, they will give Ichigo the ladder he needs to climb ever higher.

So he can break through…

 

* * *

 

Ichigo makes it all the way to Tenth Seat before he’s forced to stop.

Normally, a shinigami without shikai would never gain a seated position that high. But, again, the Eleventh is the exception to the rule. (Not like they can talk anyway. Their captain doesn't even have bankai.)

No one can protest his promotion. He’s climbed his way there all on his own, through spars held in front of enough witnesses that to say he didn’t win would mean facing scrutiny. Ichigo had managed to beat the previous Tenth Seat by a hair, but only because the guy took a minute to gloat about his shikai. It took Ichigo two shunpo steps to get behind him and knock him out. He never got to see what the shikai could do.

Ichigo gets the feeling he won’t get away with that next time. The glare the Ninth Seat gives him just dares him to try.

It seems even his skills will only get him so far. And it _burns_ him, like a fire that can’t be sated. It burns that every night now, he dreams of a bare cliff and a roar that isn’t the ocean’s anymore. But he can’t hear a _name_. There is no one to call.

**_“Who are you?”_ **

There _are_ some benefits to his position. He has what he’s been gunning for all this time. People whisper about the Shiba in the Eleventh, the Tenth Seat without shikai. Even Kaien hadn’t climbed that far without his. And it barely – just barely – offsets the fact that he _still doesn’t have shikai._

His family has never been prouder. And other people have started to pay attention. Ikkaku, the man who had showed him around that first day, has taken him under his wing, along with Sixth Seat Abarai Renji. Even Kusajishi-fukutaichou has paid him the dubious compliment of saying, “Ken-chan’s looking forward to fighting with you someday!”

But it isn’t enough. Somehow, it still isn’t enough.

In his dreams, he stands on a cliff and screams at the sky.

**_“Tell me your name.”_ **

 

* * *

 

Ichigo knows _of_ Kuchiki Rukia.

Ikkaku has smashed his and Renji’s faces in and dragged them out drinking often enough that the two have bonded. Reluctantly, at first, then eagerly, with a rivalry that reminds Ichigo of his days in the Academy with Toshiro. It helped when Ikkaku forced Renji to fight Ichigo without shikai, and Ichigo kicked his ass.

It didn’t take long after that to drag Renji’s story out of him too.

(Ichigo looks into Renji’s eyes, then, and sees, _Whatever it takes._ That night, he realizes he’s found another person he can stand on equal ground with. After all, aren’t they all the same?)

**_“Whatever it takes.”_ **

On the other hand, there’s Kaien. Ichigo’s cousin wouldn’t shut up about his latest project, the last time they were both in the clan compound. Every few decades or so, Kaien apparently picks up a "project" to work on. Before Rukia, it had been his now-wife, Miyako; and before her it had been Ichigo.

(Kaien still likes to mock Ichigo for his horrible jealous streak in his thirties. The only reason Ichigo hasn't killed him for it yet is because it makes Miyako-san laugh. And then she takes his side, bringing up embarrassing stories of Kaien in turn.)

(Did he say Kaien is his favorite relative? Nope, it's Miyako-san.)

Ichigo's not deaf, either. He's heard what the other Thirteenth Division members whisper, when they think he isn't paying attention. One of the benefits of being Eleventh – everyone immediately thinks you're dumber than you look. And Ichigo can look like a deaf, meatheaded thug when he wants to.

Like he's said before. It's not the first time he’s heard ‘noble’ spoken with derision.

When Ichigo he finally gets to meet Rukia, it’s during a visit to his cousin’s Division. It’s purely on business – the Thirteenth is coordinating a mission with the Eleventh to one of the farther districts in Rukongai, and they needed a minion to ferry messages back and forth.

Technically, as a Tenth Seat, Ichigo should be above that. Then again, even if no one can openly protest his promotion, it never meant they can’t find other ways to do so.

He looks down at the pixie of a girl in front of him. She returns his gaze, a forlorn expression on her face, with the large eyes of a lost puppy. He thinks of Renji, and of Kaien; he thinks of the whispers about the Kuchiki pet that reach even beyond the halls of the Thirteenth.

He looks down at her, and says, “You’re shorter than I expected.”

The flash of shock and anger in those violet eyes makes him grin.

He and Rukia clash in all the best ways. She's not Toshiro, or Renji, who can give Ichigo a good beating when they put their backs into it. But she's just as blunt, and has an even shorter tolerance for bullshit from him. Her stupid drawings are hilarious as hell. And she has a measure of empathy that Ichigo’s rivals don’t have, one that lets the two of them end the day in a tucked away porch, with only the whisper of the wind and the peace the other person's presence provides.

Ichigo never thought he'd find his best friend in a tiny girl half his size and stuck under his cousin's thumb. And all Ichigo had to do was piss her off.

(Getting her to stop calling him “-dono” becomes a battle of wills that lasts _months_. It helps that Ichigo’s younger than her, even if he’s technically her superior. It does annoy him that it took an involuntary “I’m not my cousin!” to get her to stop. So maybe he’s not the one who won this round after all.)

One day, Kaien catches them squabbling in one of the Thirteenth’s training grounds. Rukia has taken it upon herself to teach Ichigo kidou, even as Ichigo teaches her how to better use her sword. Ichigo’s in the middle of proving how useless it is for her to try, when Kaien walks in.

“Man, Ichigo,” he says. His wide grin is enough of a warning that Ichigo isn’t going to like what he’s about to hear. Rukia looks horrified at the thought of her superior catching her swearing out his cousin – but not as horrified as she becomes with what he says next.

“If you’re going to bother Kuchiki so much, why don’t you just get it over with and ask her out on a date?”

Rukia actually squeaks.

Ichigo just blinks at his cousin. "No," he says, without hesitation.

It never even crossed his mind.

Turns out, he just hit a soft spot for Rukia. "Are you calling me unattractive?!" she yells, momentarily forgetting about the propriety she tries so hard to keep around Kaien. Ichigo’s too busy to retort. The grin has slipped off of Kaien’s face, leaving something more solemn. He takes a moment to study Ichigo’s bewildered expression, before clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"I hope you find them, cousin," he says, sincere joy glimmering in his eyes. Ichigo's confusion only rises.

"Find who?" Kaien only shakes his head, laughing in response. Ichigo reaches out to grab him, maybe to shake the answer out of him, only for his noisy subordinates – Kotetsu and Kotsubaki, was it? – to come in, yelling. First Kaien has to talk them down, then their captain walks in, and there’s no point in asking after that.

 

* * *

 

It takes a while for Ichigo to realize his cousin had been referring to a soulmate. And- honestly, Ichigo never really thought of it before. He's always been busy, driving himself further, pushing his own limits. He knows soulmates can exist. He's never really thought about having one of his own.

But now that the thought has entered his head, it won’t leave. He finds himself picking up _The Princess and the Cowherd_ in the market, only to drop it like poison and hurry away from the stall. He watches couples walk past and wonders, are they soulmates? Are _they_?

He doesn’t know anyone he can ask. Soulmates are _rare._ They’re rare enough that most people don’t bother waiting to find theirs, even those that suspect they have one in the first place. The irony is that it’s (relatively) more common to find bonded soulmates in Rukongai. To have a partner who always knows where you are and how you’re doing, who can learn to move with you until it’s almost like you’re reading each other’s minds – it could mean the difference between life and death.

In Seiritei, the idea of a soulmate is more romantic in nature, especially amongst the nobles and the civilians. Because not everyone lives with the threat of death hanging over their heads, they have the choice not to solidify a bond. It’s generally encouraged in the shinigami forces, at least, if only for the combat advantages.

This is the reason that, despite the Shinigami Women’s Association’s fondness for stories of the sort, very, very few people would dare try to separate a bonded pair in Seiritei. Ichigo still remembers the fuss the Kuchiki clan made about one, a few decades back. He hadn’t paid that much attention to it – didn’t give a damn – but the fact that it still reached him says enough about the issue.

The knowing looks Kaien keeps shooting at him piss him off, so he starts avoiding the Thirteenth. He shoves any thought of soulmates aside and tries to bury himself in training and work. Every free moment he has is spent meditating, searching for the spirit that lives in that cliffside, under the moon. Ikakku and Renji take note of his new vigor in training, but say nothing.

He has bigger things to worry about than a soulmate he might never meet. Inside his mindscape, the moon has grown so large it feels like he can almost touch it. The roar of his zanpakuto spirit is so loud he wakes up with it reverberating in his bones. He’s close. He can feel it. And the longer he stays on the edge of that precipice, the more frustrated he gets.

He visits Toshiro one day, when he knows his dad is busy getting a checkup at the Fourth. The boy looks at him with those hard, teal eyes, his expression knowing. Toshiro wastes no words. He picks up Hyourinmaru and leads Ichigo to the training grounds.

It’s good to know Ichigo can still give him a run for his money in zanjutsu.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t receive the news until it’s too late. He opens his eyes to the taste of saltwater on his tongue, a fading roar in his ears, and rough hands shaking him awake. “Oi! Ichigo! Wake up!”

“Wh-” He blinks away the darkness of an endless night sky, and focuses on a familiar, tattooed face. “Renji?”

The trepidation on Renji’s face is enough to jolt Ichigo all the way back into the waking world. He’s tossing off his covers before the words even leave Renji’s mouth.

“It’s Shiba-fukutaichou. Rukia just brought back his body to your clan compound.”

Ichigo doesn’t think he’s ever run that fast before. He catches Rukia outside the compound, hiding in the shade of a tree. Her hands drop from her face as he lands in front of her. Her shihakusho hangs stiffly over her front – dried blood, keeping the cloth from falling where it should. Her skin is even paler than usual. There are shadows under her eyes, and a telling red splatter on her cheek. Had she gone straight from their mission to the compound?

From inside, he hears Kukaku scream.

(Kukaku-nee-san shouldn’t sound like that. She shouldn’t, she _shouldn’t_ , but still her wail rises over the compound walls. Ichigo cannot deny it.)

“Ichigo,” Rukia says. Her voice is heavy with horror and despair. He watches her gather herself; force her back to straighten and her deadened eyes to meet his gaze. “I’m s-”

“What happened?” he cuts her off. He knows that look. He’s seen it before. He had been fifteen years old then, barely a toddler. And still, he remembers.

It had been raining, then.

Rukia’s gaze drops. “I killed him. I-” Her voice cracks. She pauses for a moment. Her hands are clasped so tightly around each other, her knuckles have turned white. “I killed Kaien-dono.”

Ichigo’s heart seizes. He forces his clenched fists open. “Bullshit,” he says.

Rukia’s head snaps up. “But-”

The sky is blue, the sun rises in the East, his dad will love his mother until his dying day, and- “You would never hurt my cousin,” Ichigo says. Rukia flinches. Her shoulders rise, her body curling in on herself, as if Ichigo had punched her in the gut. Ichigo shifts in place – not enough to crowd her, but enough to block the way if she decides to bolt. “Not without good reason,” he adds.

She stares at him, her expression almost incredulous in her shock. Her face scrunches up. A tear drips down her cheek. Then another, and another.

The whole story comes pouring out then. How Miyako – _Miyako-san_ – and her squad died to a single Hollow. How Kaien had forced Ukitake’s hand, bringing the three of them to the Hollow’s lair. How things had only gotten worse from there.

“And I- I killed him, because- I was so afraid… But even worse than that was knowing he was hurting – I couldn’t bear it,” Rukia cries. She digs her palms into her eyes, as if the pain could make the tears stop. “I was just trying to save myself the whole time! I was a coward, and I killed him! If I had just- If I could have just-”

Ichigo’s eyes burn. His head hurts from how hard he’s gritting his teeth. His nails are digging into his palms so hard, it’s a wonder they haven’t broken skin yet. He takes a deep, shaky breath, and flicks Rukia on the forehead.

Rukia splutters.

“He thanked you, didn't he?” he says roughly. “Then it's fine! Idiot.”

“But I-! If I hadn’t-!” Rukia chokes on a sob, struggling to protest. “I could have-!” Ichigo sighs and runs a hand over his face.

“You couldn’t have stopped him if you tried,” he says flatly. She opens her mouth, ready to protest. He cuts her off. “My dad did the same for my mom, you know.”

Rukia’s jaw drops, shocked out of her misery. Ichigo mutters a curse and turns his gaze to the side.

The grass along the path still glimmers with dew. He thinks of a grown man kneeling before his son, and remembers.

“In the Shiba clan, we have- I guess you can call it a tradition.” He laughs, a short huff with no humor in it. “Not like anyone ever wrote it down.” He shakes his head. “We value family more than anything. So when one of us dies to a Hollow, the closest family member hunts it down and purifies it.”

He turns to Rukia. “Did you ever hear how my old man became captain?”

She jerks, startled at the abrupt shift in conversation. “I- no,” she says.

Ichigo shoves his hair out of his eyes. “My mother was killed by a Menos.” Rukia’s eyes widen. “My dad had been away, at the time. The minute he got the news, he charged right after it. He barely spared the time to say goodbye to me."

He remembers the rain dripping from the eaves, keeping him dry on the porch of their home. He remembers feeling lost and scared, as his strong, unwavering dad knelt in front of him and said, _I’m sorry._

He remembers wondering if Isshin even meant to come back.

Things were never really the same between father and son, after that.

Rukia shifts in place. It’s obvious she’s hesitant to speak. At least the river of tears seems to have stopped flowing. “What happened?” she croaks at last. Ichigo’s lips twitch.

“He found the Menos and threw his bankai at it.” His smirk widens at her disbelieving look, though the corners still aren’t going where they should. "He just finished getting it, see. A shinigami, with bankai, killing off a Menos on his own? His Captain recommended him as his successor on the spot."

Isshin had meant his bankai as a surprise for his wife, on their fiftieth anniversary. Instead, it became a send-off.

"So stop blaming yourself. Alright?" Ichigo crosses his arms, scowling. He has never told anyone about his mother. Not even Toshiro knows. His heart aches with the faint memory of her voice, on top of the fresher hurt just waiting to overwhelm him. "You did everything you could."

Rukia’s face falls. She bites her lip. She’s nothing if not stubborn. Unfortunately, it’s one of the reasons Ichigo likes her. "I’m still a coward," she says.

"Then do better next time," Ichigo says, as if it’s that simple.

And it is, isn’t it?

Rukia’s hands curl into fists. Her lower lip wobbles, like she’s ready to cry again. She sniffs, then scowls. She straightens her back – not to face the gallows, this time, but to face tomorrow. Her jaw clenched, she looks Ichigo in the eye, and nods.

At long last, Ichigo lets his shoulders sag, and his eyes lose the steel he’d been holding in all this time. He rubs the bridge of his nose, then drops his hand. Voice low, he says, "Thank you for not letting Kaien die alone."

...and he just ruined his last twenty minutes of hard work.

 

* * *

 

In his dreams, he stands on a cliff and screams at the sky.

“What use are you?” he yells at the roaring waves. Lightning flashes, illuminating the cliff in stark shadows. The moon is dark, hidden behind the storm clouds. “If I had you, I could have stopped him! I could have saved him!” Rain pours in torrents over his head, plastering his hair to his face. He clenches his hands into fists and screams. “What use is a zanpakuto that can’t do anything!”

There’s a shape rising from the ocean in front of him. It’s a shadow darker than shadow, a silhouette deeper than the night.

Red eyes flare.

**_"Is this not what you wanted, boy?"_ **

Thunder rumbles; the ocean roars. The low voice rises above them all.

**_"Did you not wish for enough power to overcome that which you were compared to?"_ **

Ichigo’s breath hitches.

**_"Now he is gone, and you are left. Are you not satisfied?"_ **

"That’s not what I meant and you know it!" His voice is lost in the crash of the waves against the cliff.

**_"If not this, then what? Tell me, boy – why do you wish for power?"_ **

Why? Ichigo pauses, frozen over the threshold. Why does he wish for power? It’s a hunger, a need – something he’s known all his life. But it’s not power for power’s sake. He doesn’t want to grow stronger to be stronger than everybody. It’s the need to grow better, to always grow better, every day, in order to break through…

He thinks of Rukia, red faced and sobbing at his feet. He thinks of Toshiro, and Renji, eyes hard, facing forward. _Whatever it takes._ He thinks of soft laughter and a warm embrace; his mother kissing his forehead before leaving for the unknown.

He thinks of Kaien, who had believed he could get out of the shadow the man himself cast; who had always looked at him with nothing but pride in his eyes.

**_“Tell me. Who are you?”_ **

He thinks of the darkness in front of him, and knows.

“My name is Shiba Ichigo. I want the power to save the people I care about, so I won’t ever be helpless again,” he says, steel in his spine and iron in his voice.

He’s never been much of a poet.

The shape moves.

**_“And what if there is no more power to gain?”_ **

The rain has stopped. The clouds are parting. A sliver of light pierces through, illuminating a coal-black snout and large, silver fangs.

Ichigo steps forward.

“Then I’ll use my power to break through my own limits and keep going.”

The moon breaks through the clouds.

 ** _“Very good,”_** rumbles the giant serpent rising out of the sea. Its long, narrow tongue flicks out to taste the air. **_“Remember what you just swore to me, and hear my name.”_**

Reiatsu floods out of the zanpakuto spirit, blasting salt water and winds at Ichigo’s face. The sleeves of his shihakusho flap as he raises a hand to brace himself. The dragon raises its head towards the sky, massive jaws open in a thunderous roar, as if it was about to swallow the moon itself.

**_“MY NAME IS-”_ **

 

* * *

 

Ichigo jolts awake, chest heaving, covered in sheets soaked with his sweat.

“Zangetsu,” he breathes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [On new Zangetsu](http://fleeting-white-feathers.tumblr.com/post/174367344020/about-shiba-ichigos-zangetsu)


	2. your ghost

Ichigo raises his hand and shades his eyes against the sun. It’s a little harder to tell the time with it shining in his face like this – but the noon bell has yet to ring, so he shouldn’t be late. Yet. He lengthens his strides anyway. By the time the last peal of the bell rings across Seireitei, it’s already a distant echo behind him, as he heads west towards Rukongai.

“You’re late!” A familiar voice barks, as he touches down on soft green grass in an open meadow.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says casually, tossing a wrapped bento at the speaker’s head. There’s a muffled clack as Rukia catches it with one hand. She doesn’t even flinch. Her glare stays directed at Ichigo, while her hands start unwrapping the box.

Ichigo flops down beside her, leaning back on his hands with a sigh. “I had to pass by Toshiro’s office to drop off some paperwork,” he explains.

“It’s been ten years,” Rukia says, taking a bite of her onigiri. “Don’t you think it’s about time you started calling him Hitsugaya-taichou?”

Ichigo snorts. “Don’t bother, I get enough of that every time I see him.” He pitches his voice higher, in an attempt to imitate his longtime friend and rival. “ _That’s Hitsugaya-taichou to you!_ Geez, you’d think he’d have given up by now. I’ve been calling him Toshiro since the Academy.”

Rukia rolls her eyes. “Are you sure you were born a noble? Sometimes, I could swear you were raised by apes.”

“Thanks.” Ichigo smirks. “An ape would be better than my dad any day.”

“It’s not meant to be a compliment, idiot.” She tosses grass at his face. He snickers, batting the pieces away. “How’s retirement working for him?”

“Terrible,” Ichigo deadpans. “I have to put up with his craziness every time I visit the compound. And I can’t even avoid the compound, because then Kukaku-nee-san will have my head.”

“Suits you right,” Rukia shoots back. “But…” She takes a moment to brush unseen grass off her knee, before adding, “He’s not still having a hard time, is he? With helping the clan hea- OW!” She yelps, grabbing the spot where Ichigo had just swatted her over the head. Her onigiri drops to the ground, and rolls sadly down the hill.

“Don’t you dare try to make my father’s job your responsibility,” Ichigo snaps. His hand is still in the air, ready to deliver another smack if it comes to it. “Seriously, Rukia? He’s _fine._ Especially after he retired _because_ he wanted to focus on helping Kukaku-nee-san. _Remember?_ ”

Rukia glares at him. “I’m allowed to be concerned,” she retorts. Ichigo points a finger at her face.

“Not about my dad,” he says. Her nose wrinkles, as she prepares to argue. Ichigo beats her to it. “Or do you want me to tell him exactly how concerned you are, just so he can express his undying gratitude?”

The disgust on Rukia’s face is enough of an answer to that. She’s been witness to Shiba Isshin’s particular brand of gratitude. Seeing Ichigo have to go through it is enough.

“Let’s just get on with it,” she grumbles, packing the remains of her lunch away for later.

“Thought so.” Ichigo counters her scowl with a smug grin. He stands up, dusting off the back of his pants, before putting his hand on the hilt of the blade on his back. “Ready? No shikai,” he adds, as she positions herself further across the meadow.

Her expression is closer to a pout than a scowl this time. Still, she nods, drawing her sword and raising it before her. The golden hilt glints in the sunlight, its red wrappings merely a sliver under her fists. “We’ll be practicing your kidou later too,” she says, raising her eyebrows in challenge.

Now Ichigo’s grimacing too. “I still don’t know why you bother,” he says, drawing his own sword. Metal rings as he pulls the large blade from its sheath.

“If you get to pound me into the dirt, I get to pound incantations into your head.” Rukia steps back, readying herself.

Ichigo sighs, shifting his weight forward. “Fair,” he admits, and then there’s no more time for words.

 

* * *

 

They’re on their way back to Seireitei when Ichigo makes the mistake of asking how Rukia’s career is going.

“They still haven’t promoted you?” he demanded, loud enough that a pair of civilians passing by give him the stink-eye. He glares back, sending them scurrying.

Rukia’s gaze is pointed towards the ground, so she misses the exchange completely. “Yes,” she says, her voice flat, in the same way she would keep it even, when faced with people she wouldn’t dare offend.

 “There’s something going on here,” Ichigo decides, crossing his arms. “There’s no way they’d leave a shinigami with shikai unseated. Hell, the minute I got mine, they sent me-”

“Four divisions down, and five seats up. I know.” Rukia rolls her eyes, but there’s no malice in it. Not when it’s faced with Ichigo’s satisfied, yet still determined expression as he looks into the distance, remembering. “I don’t get it either, okay? But it’s not like I can just walk up to Ukitake-taichou and ask.”

“Why not?” Ichigo turns back to her, so fast she could almost hear his neck pop. His scowl is thoughtful, this time. “We both know he likes you. You could just bring it up.”

“I-” She splutters, caught off-guard. “That would be too presumptuous of me!”

“Not if you phrase it right.” Ichigo presses his thumb against the side of his nose, thinking. “Ask what you need to do to get promoted. Make it sound like you want to do better. If you play the role of eager subordinate, it should be fine.”

“I’ve already been doing all I can-” Rukia cuts herself off, scowling. Ichigo’s lips flatten into a straight line. He knows how much a promotion would mean to her. It’s been almost sixty years since she was adopted by the Kuchikis and sent to the Thirteenth Division. If it had been Ichigo, he’d be biting at the bit to prove himself too.

They make it all the way past Jidanbou and the West Gate before she finally speaks. “Very well. I’ll bring it up with taichou-” Ichigo nods, satisfied. “-after my mission to the Human World.”

“A mission to the Human World?” He whirls around, gaping.

Rukia bristles. “I thought, maybe, if I could prove myself for a month-”

“A _month?_ ” Ichigo echoes. He doesn’t even bother moving out of the way, standing right in the middle of the path to stare at Rukia. “When?”

Rukia shoots him a wary look. “June.”

Ichigo’s eyebrow slowly creeps up his forehead. “You know Renji’s going to get the results of his promotion to lieutenant then, right?”

Color floods Rukia’s cheeks. “Does it matter?” she says, her voice tight. Ichigo rolls his eyes so hard he almost bumps into someone. The man swears, before moving on. Ichigo ignores him.

“You need a break,” he decides.

“A what?”

“A break.” He pokes Rukia in the forehead, and dodges her retaliatory strike. “You’ve been working too hard. And seriously, talk to Renji already!” he adds, sounding affronted enough that Rukia actually pauses in her attempts to knee him in the gut. “He’s never as pathetic as when he asks about you. I’m sick of waiting for him to decide whether he’s jealous we’re friends or he’s grateful because I keep him up to date.”

Rukia raises her eyebrow. Her judging eyes scan Ichigo from head to toe. “Are you two gossiping about me?” she asks, her voice as flat as her expression.

“Pathetic,” Ichigo repeats, drawing out every syllable. “He has this song and dance where he tries to rile me up by asking if I’m still hanging around the Thirteenth, even after I transferred. Sometimes I just cut him off, to save us both the trouble.”

Rukia laughs, in spite of herself. “Does he still make that face-” She twirls a finger around hers, then attempts an ugly looking pout, with her hands standing in for Renji’s tattoos.

Ichigo chokes on a snort. “Perfect.” He watches her smile slip into something more melancholic, and adds, “Seriously, just talk to the guy already. Put him out of his misery.”

And just like that, she’s back on the defensive. “He’s the one who started it!” Rukia retorts.

“Then kick him in the face and tell him how big an idiot he is.” Ichigo crosses his arms, unimpressed. “Wrap him up in kidou and yell at him. He’s almost as bad at it as I am.”

“Why is the Eleventh’s solution always to beat people up?” But there’s a tilt to her head that lets Ichigo know she’s considering it, and a vindictive light in her eyes that doesn’t make him feel sorry for Renji at all.

“Because it’s effective.” Ichigo grins. He pats Rukia on the back, making her stumble. “Let me have that mission. I could use the vacation. Ikakku and dad are starting to drive me insane again.”

Rukia runs a hand through her hair and glares at him. He doesn’t even bother trying to look apologetic. “Shouldn’t you ask our captains first?” she asks.

Ichigo waves her concerns away. “They know I’m gunning for a promotion too,” he says. “It’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

 

“Tenchou?” Kisuke looks up from the new shipment of materials for the custom gigai he’s making. Tessai stands on the other side of the room, clipboard in hand. He’s supposed to be checking a different box. Instead, he’s staring at Kisuke.

“Is something wrong, Tessai-san?” Kisuke asks, straightening from his crouch.

The corners of Tessai’s lips turn down. Kisuke’s twitch up into a sheepish smile, even though he doesn’t know what he’s done this time. Yet. “You’ve been staring at that box for the past ten minutes,” Tessai says. He adjusts his glasses, the same way he always does whenever he worries.

Kisuke frowns and tilts his hat forward. It’s the second time he’s spaced off today. He’s been particularly distracted since that new shinigami had arrived at Karakura a few days ago. Even now, their reiatsu blazes bright in his senses, like a sharp blast of wind cutting through his concentration. It’s like they never learned how to control their reiatsu. What are they teaching in the Academy these days?

Ever since they settled in the shop, Kisuke’s been tracking senkaimon and garganta appearances as far as Naruki City. At first it was to ensure they would be warned if Aizen or Soul Society came after them. But after a few decades, and about a hundred secrecy and barrier kidou integrated in a lattice formation over their new home, it became a way to poke holes in Aizen’s plans, little by little.

Kisuke’s been trying to save people from Aizen since he was exiled. Not always – and sometimes, too late – but he tries. He comes to the remains of experimental Hollow attacks like a scavenger, praying the victim lived and he can still save them. It’s not enough – it will never be enough, especially when the victim shouldn’t have been dragged into their silent war in the first place – but it’s all he can do while he waits.

(He thinks of the Quincy girl, dying to a Hollow infection, and regrets.)

He cannot do more. If he does more, he will be caught, Aizen will get his hands on the Hougyoku, and everything they’ve worked on for the past century will be over.

(He thinks of Ururu and Jinta, of the Visored, and reminds himself it isn’t all for nothing.)

He passes a hand over his face and sighs. He’ll keep an eye on the new shinigami assigned to Karakura Town. In the meantime, he’ll work on his latest gigai design, and hope the chance to use it comes soon enough.

“I’m just a little distracted, Tessai-san,” he assures his old friend with a crooked smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

* * *

 

That night, he wakes to a flare of reiatsu so bright, for a moment he fools himself into thinking it left spots dancing in the back of his eyes. By the time he throws on his haori and strides for the front door, Tessai is there, holding it open for him in a silent question.

“Wait for my call,” he says, thanks and an order in one. Tessai nods; and he is gone.

He finds a soul in a white yukata, cursing up a storm. The boy’s hand is on his shoulder, red seeping into the cloth under his fingers. At his feet are a pair of souls: one, a human with fire-orange hair, soul chain still connected to her body; the other, a female shinigami, with short, dark hair, her zanpakuto lying by her hand. The battle had left its mark on the house nearby, especially with the hole through the second story wall. The Hollow is gone, leaving only the traces of a successful purification behind. And there, by a lamppost—

Kisuke’s heart skips a beat.

—a human body with short, dark hair, lying on the ground.

His mind bursts into overdrive, taking in every detail lying before him and inserting them into dozens and dozens of possibilities, one branching off the other, until he reaches a single point of conclusion.

It’s almost – _almost –_ too good to be true. There is no possible way for Aizen to know what he’s been working on. Even if he did, to orchestrate this situation without having a direct hand in it would leave too high a probability of it failing for the meticulous Aizen to attempt it.

The soul in a white yukata can only be a shinigami who lent his powers to a human, creating a substitute shinigami.

A shinigami that gave away his powers will absorb the Hougyoku much, much faster than a shinigami at full power.

Pulse thudding in his ears, he reaches for his phone.

The only conscious soul’s head snaps up, gaze arrowing towards a spot unnervingly close to where Kisuke is hiding in. Kisuke double-checks his reiatsu levels, and feels his eyebrows rise. The soul must be – must have been – a powerful or sensitive shinigami, to be able to sense an Onmitsukidou veteran hiding nearby.

Very well. Introductions first, then.

He jumps down from the roof he’d been standing on, landing with a clack of wood on asphalt. “It seems you might be in need of some assistance, Shinigami-san,” he notes, in the cheery, singsong voice of his shopkeeper persona.

“Who are you?” The soul looks puzzled, no, curious, even. Though his hand twitches where it grips his shoulder, he doesn’t flinch back, even as Kisuke steps closer. How very trusting.

“Merely a humble shopkeeper-” Kisuke smiles, tipping his hat slightly, “-at your service.” He gestures towards the boy’s shoulder. “May I?”

Now the boy reacts, turning so his injured shoulder is on the side not facing Kisuke. “Why do you want to help me?” he asks, suspicion creeping into his voice.

“Trust me, it’s no altruism on my part. Think of it as, hmm.” Kisuke hums, taking his fan and tapping it against his chin. “An investment, in hopefully another faithful customer.” He snaps his fan open and beams.

“Right.” The suspicion on the boy’s face slips away. He still looks curious, but he does remove his hand, letting Kisuke see the wound.

Kisuke would be amused, if the trick didn’t work every time. The minute people think they’ve got his hidden motivation down (money) they don’t question him any further. To assume one knows everything they need to know about someone at a glance is foolish.

Just look at Aizen.

Kisuke squats down, careful not to touch the shinigami. No need to make the boy put his guard back up. He studies the wound, before bringing up the green glow of a healing kidou. Giant teeth marks – blunt, not piercing. It had torn through the muscle in the boy’s shoulder. A Hollow with human teeth, then? To be bitten this badly, either the boy is horrifically incompetent, or something had prevented him from dodging.

Kisuke glances at the unconscious dark-haired girl on the ground. Or, perhaps, he hadn’t been trying to dodge at all.

“May I have your name, Shinigami-san?” The boy jerks, surprised at the abruptness of the question. Lucky for him, Kisuke has finished doing all he can for the shoulder. He’s no Unohana-san, but he’s picked up a few things over the decades. At the very least, the wound won’t scar. Kisuke sits back on his heels, smiling. “Unless you would prefer I keep referring to you as such?”

“Shiba Ichigo.” Brown eyes, darkened by the light of the lamppost above, flicker to Kisuke’s face, then away. “Ichigo’s fine.”

A Shiba, then? Kisuke hasn’t heard that name in a long time. He wonders what the boy’s – Ichigo’s – relation to Kukaku is.

Cool reiatsu curls around Kisuke’s hands. He blinks, and realizes he might be squatting a little too close, if the light flush lighting up Ichigo’s skin is any indication. Kisuke’s smile turns into something wry. How flattering. He’s not exactly in the prime of his youth, now.

He stands, showing no indication that he noticed Ichigo’s predicament. That cool reiatsu clings to his for a moment more, like a soft ocean breeze, before he steps out of reach. It amuses him. Even at a quarter of his strength, Ichigo’s reiatsu is still so lively.

Pulling out his fan again, Kisuke speaks. “Now, if I may have another moment of your time, I would like to offer you a proposition…”

 

* * *

 

Of course the boy says yes. What choice does he have? There is no way he can request a gigai from Seireitei. They will want to know why a shinigami assigned to patrol a small town would need one. Not like he can keep running around as a soul either – unless he actually wants to be eaten by a Hollow.

He calls up Tessai on his phone. “Bring the gigai on my table. Yes, that one.” Ichigo should have his own memory replacement device, so there would be no need to bring one.

Kisuke can hear the alarm and hesitant anticipation in Tessai’s reply. He knows what the gigai is for. Kisuke keeps his own voice light. He’s making no promises. But if this works, it will seriously hinder Aizen’s plans… or even ruin them completely.

He puts down the phone and turns, in time to see Ichigo hooking his arms under the redhead’s. He watches as the boy begins dragging the girl’s soul towards her body, without even a single thought given to finesse. How rude.

“Should you really be doing that?” Kisuke asks. He braces his arm and starts fanning himself, for lack of anything better to do while waiting. “Your wound’s not completely healed, you know.”

Ichigo grunts as he pulls the girl’s soul a couple more feet. Her chain of fate clatters as it moves across the road with every yank. “Someone’s got to do it.”

Kisuke watches him struggle for a moment longer, then sighs and snaps his fan shut. “Allow me,” he says. Ichigo glances at him, pale and sweating. At last, he surrenders, lowering the girl to the ground with more care than he had shown dragging her around.

Kisuke can definitely see how this boy ended up handing his powers to a human girl, illegal or no. He walks over, and lifts the redhead with both arms. It’s a simple task to bring her to her body, heal whatever scrapes she had received from the attack, then return her to the bedroom on the second floor. He does the same for the human-turned-substitute-shinigami, eyeing her zanpakuto before placing her soul back into her body.

The sword is large enough to be slung over her back, and not at her waist. It seems to be shaped like an oversized katana, with a black sheath attached to her person by a red sash. The sword itself has an oval-shaped guard, with six circular carvings spaced equally around the blade. The hilt and guard are as black as the sheath, with red rope wrapping over the hilt to complete the look.

“Was it worth it?” His shadowed gaze slides to his new customer. Ichigo hadn’t sat back down. He doesn’t seem to be swaying, though, so Kisuke lets it be.

“She would have kept fighting even if I hadn’t.” Ichigo jerks his head at the dark-haired girl’s prone body. “Then we would have all died anyway.”

Kisuke lets his eyes drop to the shinigami’s white yukata. One thing was niggling at him. “But to give all your power?”

To his surprise, the boy flushes, red going up his neck all the way to his ears. “I don’t have the best reiatsu control, okay?” he says, through gritted teeth.

Kisuke’s eyebrow rises. A Shiba, with terrible reiatsu control? Now that’s a story. Ichigo glares at the shopkeeper, daring him to comment. The boy is saved from any further embarrassment by the arrival of Tessai, blanketed gigai slung over the man’s shoulder.

“Ah, thank you, Tessai-san.” Kisuke stands, dusting off his hands. “Here we are.” He lets Tessai put the gigai down, then turns to Ichigo. “Please, feel free.” He gestures towards the featureless humanoid. Silently, he praises Tessai for the foresight of clothing it with another plain white yukata beforehand.

“It has the standard features of a gigai: it will adjust to fit your soul’s regular appearance, with a limited capacity for reiatsu-boosted physical strength. It requires sustenance, just as you would in your soul form.” He lets his hat shadow his gaze. “However, staying inside one for longer than the recommended period of time _will_ have consequences-”

Ichigo takes a deep breath and lets it out in a whoosh. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve got a month to get my reiatsu back. It won’t take that long.” And, in a murmur Kisuke’s sure he isn’t meant to hear: “And no one will have to know.”

For a moment, guilt pierces Kisuke. He pushes it away. The shinigami is fated to die anyway. Even he knows creating a substitute shinigami is outlawed in soul society. Silently, he apologizes to and thanks Ichigo for his sacrifice, and leads him to the gigai.

He watches as the boy steps into the artificial body. The gigai’s features shift, quickly growing shoulder-length orange hair, a sharp nose, and a sharp jaw. Ichigo blinks, then uncurls from the gigai’s resting position.

“Ah, you probably shouldn’t-” Kisuke starts, as Ichigo moves to stand. Unused to the gigai’s weight, he makes it halfway up before he stumbles.

It’s instinct, to catch the boy before he lands on his face. Kisuke catches him by the elbow; Ichigo grabs his forearm.

The remains of Ichigo’s reiatsu rushes over him like a wave, curling into his, until red and blue twine around each other in his mind’s eye. A light bond. A _soul bond._

His mind flashes through the last fifteen minutes, even as he forces down panic.

It should have been obvious, in hindsight. How much more aware he had been of their shinigami visitor than the others. This sense of familiarity that had him referring to the boy as “Ichigo” in his head, not “Shiba-san”, nor even “Ichigo-san.” Ichigo’s reiatsu, tugging at his without even needing physical contact.

He feels the boy stiffen. Centuries of experience keep his expression that of a clueless shopkeeper – a vacant smile, with just a hint of intent to show he’s after a profit, no matter how he tries to hide it. All to hide the sharp mind underneath.

It’s this feeling again. This mixture of fear and fascination. The coward in him wants to retreat; the scientist wants to know. And on top of that is a century’s worth of living as a guilty man.

Kisuke wonders, see. He wonders if there really is someone who can accept him for all that he is, for every layer he’s built up over the years – from the ones he shows to strangers; to the ones he shows to his friends; to the ones he shows to Yoruichi and Tessai; and at last, to the ones he hides from even them. He wonders, and he fears.

Because to open himself up would mean to be vulnerable; and to be vulnerable would mean he could be hurt. And the circumstances around him mean that he cannot allow himself any openings. Not now. Not until the world is safe, and Aizen is dead.

So Kisuke helps Ichigo stand, snaps his fan open, and smiles. “How is it?”

“H-huh?” The boy – and he’s just a boy, a young soul in a teenage human’s body – stutters, blinking.

“The gigai,” Kisuke clarifies. “Is it satisfactory?”

“I- yeah.” And he looks so lost, at the moment. Like the world had swept the rug out from under his feet, and he hasn’t been given a chance to find something to hold on to. Something in Kisuke’s heart tightens. But there’s no turning back now.

“Wonderful. Do you have your denreishinki with you?” Ichigo pats down his yukata, then pulls out a device in the shape of a gray flip phone. Kisuke takes it, careful not to let their hands touch, then starts tapping away. He hands it back to Ichigo to confirm the purchase. “If you have any further need of our services, I have sent my shop’s address to your phone.”

Ichigo nods jerkily, his lips thin. Kisuke makes sure his customer-friendly smile is still on his face, and tilts his hat forward. “Until next time then, Shiba-san.”

Yoruichi doesn’t know the guilt he bears from his years slaying innocents under her orders. Will his soulmate know, and accept that even if he didn’t want to, he did it anyway?

Tessai doesn’t know the hunger for knowledge Kisuke has, nor his ability to reduce people to nothing but components and numbers, in ways that would remind Kisuke of Aizen or Mayuri in his darkest nights. Would his soulmate know, and accept the shadows that lurk in the back of Kisuke’s mind?

Would his soulmate accept a liar, and a murderer?

Would he accept that Kisuke had just sentenced him to his death?

“Hey!” Ichigo calls out, stopping Kisuke in his tracks. He turns around. That lost expression is gone from the boy’s face. Instead, determination blazes, with a focused gaze that makes something in Kisuke respond, in spite of himself. “I never got your name.”

Kisuke pauses for a moment. Behind him, he can feel Tessai waiting.

Well. He can give at least that, he supposes.

“Urahara Kisuke,” he says, bowing slightly. “At your service.”

 

* * *

 

Kisuke doesn’t get any sleep for the rest of the night. He sits in his lab, his sleeve pulled to his elbow, tracing the black, stylized symbol that’s now on the back of his forearm with the pads of his fingers.

A shinigami that gave his powers away will absorb the Hougyoku faster. Turning a shinigami soul with the Hougyoku into a human one will remove any powers that might command or power the Hougyoku. When the soul fully integrates with it, the Hougyoku will go into an inactive state. And when the host dies, the Hougyoku will be destroyed in the cycle of rebirth.

Again and again, Kisuke runs his plans through his mind. He weighs the risks, notes the costs, checks them against the desired outcome.

Again and again, Kisuke thinks of Shiba Ichigo, and the Hougyoku he needs to destroy. But there is only one truth:

Kisuke has condemned his soulmate to death.

And it _hurts._ It brings him back to those days in the Shihouin compound, when he heard his first soulmate story from Yoruichi and wondered if that was what the ache in his gut was for. Century after century of telling himself that it’s nothing, that he can wait. Century after century of killing without discrimination, of experiments sanctioned then abandoned, of mistakes created by his own carelessness. Of wondering if anyone will truly want him, after all this.

Of hoping that there’s at least someone out there who will truly want him, after all this.

It’s the one thing he’s held onto, all these years. And now he has destroyed it with his own hands.

He wants. Oh, how he wants. He can still take it back. The process will only have just started. He can call back Ichigo on the grounds that the gigai was faulty, compensate him, and send him along with a different one, with Ichigo none the wiser.

But when will they get a chance like this again? When will Kisuke find another shinigami who will need a gigai for as long as it would take for the Hougyoku to disappear into their soul?

There’s more than his selfishness at stake here. It’s the world versus one soul. The very fabric of both the world of the living and the dead is in danger. Who knows what Aizen will do with an army of empowered Arrancar in his hands?

Kisuke thinks of letting down Yoruichi, and Tessai, and Hirako, and Hiyori, and the Visored, and knows. He can’t. Not after everything.

So. A plan.

Soul bonds have to be acknowledged and strengthened by both parties to develop their full potential. The basic level is an awareness of the other's existence, manifested by the sensation of something missing, or the desire to find something the searcher doesn’t know. Once the bond has been established through touch, it becomes an active awareness of the other’s presence. The range can vary, but it does grow stronger over time, with care.

As the desire for intimacy (not necessarily physical) in both parties grows, the bond becomes an emphatic link. The highest form of a soul bond is sharing physical sensation across distances. It’s possible that stories of a bonded feeling their partner being cut down from miles away are exaggerated. Kisuke never got the chance to confirm his research on that matter.

(He won’t, now.)

To maintain his soul’s connection to the gigai over a prolonged period of time, Ichigo will have to pass by the shop sooner or later. There will be no avoiding that. The minute he even attempts to get Tessai to assist the boy in his place will be the minute Tessai grows suspicious.

Soul bonds have to be acknowledged and strengthened by both parties.

So Kisuke will simply have to reject his soulmate. That’s all.

For the sake of the people depending on him.

That’s all.

In the shadowed corner of his lab, Kisuke covers his face with one hand and lets the tears fall.

 

* * *

 

Ichigo does pass by, in the end. Not even a day later, Kisuke looks at him, shifting his weight at the entrance of the shop, eyeing the wares laid out there, and decides to bring the matter up when the boy does. Kisuke’s as tense as he can be, with Tessai leaving them to it and the kids up to their own business outside. His shopkeeper persona’s on full blast.

Ichigo doesn’t let Kisuke swindle him. Kisuke would have been disappointed if he had. Imagine Kukaku’s reaction.

Kisuke eyes his customer as he putters around the shop, gathering the things Ichigo had requested. He looks more confident, more settled. The lost boy of the night before is gone. Not that Ichigo doesn’t look young, still. If anything, the way he keeps sneaking glances when he thinks Kisuke isn’t looking makes him look like a human his age.

He’s quick to retort. He has a gift for subtle sarcasm that amuses Kisuke, in spite of himself. Their banter flows smoothly, with Kisuke teasing him and Ichigo firing right back. Twenty minutes in, and he has yet to mention anything remotely related to soulmates. Kisuke watches him run a hand through his hair, before turning back to his work.  

“Hey. Do you- Have you-”

Kisuke does _not_ freeze. He keeps his hands busy, wrapping up Ichigo’s purchases. He takes a moment to tuck the red cloth of a gokon tekkou beside the fixer pills. Ensuring his expression is as controlled as ever, he looks over his shoulder. “Did you say something, Shiba-san?” he asks.

He sees Ichigo open his mouth, then hesitate. Brown eyes scan his shadowed face.

“…Nothing,” Ichigo says at last.

It hurts. Kisuke hadn’t expected it to. He turns before his shopkeeper’s smile can falter.

Soulmates are a very intimate and private matter. Kisuke has shown no indication that he is aware of what happened the night before. It only makes sense that Ichigo would be hesitant to ask him about it.

So why does it feel like a rejection?

Kisuke shakes his head at himself, smile turning wry. This is what he wants, isn’t it? He should feel relieved. Ichigo’s doing his job for him. At this rate, they’ll have perfectly civil conversations whenever Ichigo returns for more purchases, and will part ways at the end of Ichigo’s assignment.

“Thank you for your patronage, Shiba-san,” he says, handing the plastic bag over. The way Ichigo snags the handles without letting their skin touch doesn’t escape him.

“Thanks for the stuff.” Again, Ichigo hesitates, one foot still on the genkan, the other already in his shoe.

“Do you need anything else?” Kisuke asks.

There’s that intense gaze again. Kisuke can’t read the expression on his face. Ichigo takes another moment, before nodding, seeming to come to a decision.

“I’ll be back.” He says it like a promise, and leaves.

Kisuke lets out a huff. He takes off his hat to run a hand through his hair. And if he tracks Ichigo’s reiatsu until it reaches the end of their pitiful connection, well, there’s no one around to tell.

 

* * *

 

A week later, and Kisuke starts to wonder if he’s being played. He’d do a better job of sticking to his plan if his soulmate – if Ichigo would stop dropping by so much.

“Human school is boring,” he declares, hair as vibrant as ever and just as long. Certainly not up to human high school standards. With the way he’s leaning against the wall, he looks just like the truant he’s parading around as. “If I couldn’t stand 6 years in the Academy, why would I stand for a month of human school?”

Kisuke feels a rush of curiosity – so his soulmate had skipped years as well? How many? – and squashes it under a mental foot. “Wouldn’t Arisawa-san need your help?” he asks, his voice mild. “What if a Hollow pops up?”

Ichigo reaches into his pocket and pulls out his denreishinki. “Lucky for us, human phones are compatible with shinigami ones,” he says, in a way that makes Kisuke think he’s quoting from someone else. “Tatsuki’s not stupid. She’ll call me if there’s trouble.”

And that was that.

It would be easy to push the boy away. Kisuke judges Ichigo’s slumped posture, the way he would poke his head around the shop, never going where he isn’t invited first, and knows. All it would take is a simple question:

What is he doing here?

Kisuke can already see the line of Ichigo’s lips would flatten, how color would rise to his ears and his shoulders would drop as he looks defiantly at Kisuke. It’s interesting how his defensive posture is more like one someone would use when on the attack. Still, it would be enough to get the noble boy with manners drilled into him to back down.

Or maybe not. After all, the Shiba are known for their stubbornness. And if there’s one thing Kisuke has learned about Ichigo these past few days, it’s that he’s inherited that in spades.

At the very least, Ichigo’s frequent visits have allowed him to keep an eye on the Hougyoku’s progress. For an item buried in a powerless shinigami, it’s more active than Kisuke expected it to be. He frowns, poring over the data from the last few days. He’ll have to check its effects on Ichigo’s surroundings.

But the more the Hougyoku uses its power, the faster it will draw on the shinigami powers of the soul it resides in. And the faster the soul loses its latent shinigami powers, the faster the Hougyoku will integrate.

Kisuke will just have to look out for whatever’s causing its activity to rise. It’s not like there are any shinigami around for it to Hollowfy.

Ichigo never tries to bring up soulmates again. He just keeps poking around the shop and Kisuke's business. Like a cat. Yoruichi would be proud.

It leaves them in this odd state of suspension, where they act like passing acquaintances while they circle around the elephant in the room. Kisuke’s not violating any of the rules he’s put down for himself. He hasn’t told Ichigo, hasn’t taken back the Hougyoku. It’s better this way, he thinks to himself. Let the boy satisfy his curiosity. He will never know what his soulmate has condemned him to.

And if that lets Kisuke talk to the person who- who could have been his soulmate, well…

No one had ever accused Kisuke of being good at taking care of himself.

 

* * *

 

Yoruichi-san pops up sometime after the third week. “Tessai tells me you’ve been moping,” she declares, deadly grace on four legs and a proud whiskered head.

Kisuke blinks at her, his face automatically forming his clueless, but nervous, smile. “I haven’t locked myself in my lab since Tuesday,” he says.

Tessai knows better than to disturb Kisuke when he’s in a mood and locked himself in his lab. If it lasts longer than three days, the man will contact Yoruichi. She will then drag Kisuke out of the lab herself, forcing him to eat and knocking him out of it. With violence, if she has to.

Kisuke has been careful about locking himself in his lab, these past few weeks.

Yoruichi looks down her nose at him. He doesn’t need her to speak to hear the “do I look stupid to you” in her gaze. For a cat, she can be very expressive.

“I hear you’ve used that gigai,” she says abruptly.

He glances at her from the corner of his eye, wary. “I have,” he says.

She sits down, her tail curling around her legs. “Are you sure it’ll work?” Her golden eyes are sharp. She blinks once, then twice, not looking away for even a moment.

Yes, Kisuke wants to say. And it will. He’s sure. If everything goes according to plan, it will. But for some reason, his mind brings up a memory from the previous afternoon.

Ichigo had mentioned the gigai slowing down in response time. Kisuke had responded with an offer to check it over, and slapped on a discount on the maintenance fee for his “continued patronage.” He had meant it in jest, but to his surprise Ichigo had accepted.

This was how Ichigo ended up sitting on a table in Kisuke’s lab. Kisuke elects not to remember the raised eyebrows it had gotten him from Tessai.

He had been making small talk. Nothing special. The fact that Kisuke had initiated the conversation should have been a warning sign all on its own.

“May I ask how you came to be assigned to this town, Shiba-san?” he asked, searching his workstation for the scanner he needed.

“Eh?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ichigo blink at him. “Ah. Turns out I hadn’t taken enough missions to the human world to fill in my promotion.” He shrugged, an easy roll of his shoulders. Kisuke’s eyes flickered to the long sleeves covering his arms, and away. “I took the liberty of taking this mission out of a friend’s hands. She needed a break, and she needed to make up with a mutual friend of ours. Both of them are too stubborn for their own good. So I ended up here.”

Scanner in hand, Kisuke turned around, just in time to see Ichigo’s perpetual scowl soften, and a fond smile grace his face.

“Kisuke!” Yoruichi’s sharp voice yanks him out of his thoughts. He blinks a couple of times, gaze focusing back on her. She’s on her feet now, her concern clear in the curl of her mouth.

It takes him but a moment to recall where their conversation had ended. “It will work,” he says, his tone almost flippant. He realizes his mistake too late.

Yoruichi’s eyes narrow. She leaps from her box onto another one closer to him, raising her to his eye level.

“What? What is it?” she demands. He opens his mouth to lie, only to be cut short by her glare. This isn’t one of the times he can hide something from her. When the Goddess of Flash catches a scent, she is not the type to let go.

And so, the story comes spilling out. By the end of it, Yoruichi’s expression has morphed into a look of horror mixed with exasperation. “Kisuke, you idiot!” She leaps onto his head and digs her claws in. They pierce through his hat and jab his scalp. He yelps, raising his hand to pull her off. She leaps away before he can even touch her. “Your own soulmate! What were you thinking?” She takes one look at his face and snarls. “Of course we wouldn’t have asked that of you, stupid. When Hirako hears about this, you know he’ll smack you too.”

Kisuke keeps his mouth shut. The distress on Yoruichi’s face is unsettling. She is the only person who could possibly know just how long he has been aching for his soulmate. For her to look like this…

Should he be more concerned, then? Should he be more conflicted than he’s letting himself feel?

 “And if there’s no other way?” he challenges. She’s saying everything he wishes he could say. But what if? “What if this is the only way we can keep it out of Aizen’s hands?”

The thing is, Kisuke is _kind_.

He just had to learn not to be.

Yoruichi raises her head and glares at him. “Then find another way,” she declares.

He stares at her.  It’s not that simple. It can’t be.

Yoruichi doesn’t flinch. Despite being barely a foot tall, there is no mistaking the command and regality in her poise. Cat or no cat, she is Shihouin Yoruichi, princess of the Shihouin clan, and former Commander-in-Chief of the Onmitsukidou. She will have her way, whether the world wants it or not.

Can it be, then? Can it be that simple? Just… find another way?

Before he even finishes that thought, his mind is already rushing through the possibilities. He recalls all the information he has on Ichigo. He recalls his information on Ichigo’s substitute Arisawa Tatsuki, both first- and secondhand. He ties in the hint of power the humans around them had shown, then situates what he knows of Soul Society on top of that. And, finally, he brings in Aizen. He takes all this, and inserts them into dozens and dozens of possibilities, one branching off the other, until he reaches a single point of conclusion.

It’s a crazy plan. It depends on so many things following through. But, if it works… if it works…

The Hougyoku, as bait. In exchange for the entire Gotei 13 knowing what the exiles know, and turning them away from Aizen at long last.

If.

Then again, since when did plans have a hundred percent success rate?

That’s when it hits him. He’s really going to do it. He doesn’t have to sacrifice his soulmate to save the world.

Relief punches him in the gut so hard, he doesn’t have time to hide it from Yoruichi. Her cat-smile is smug. As it should be.

“I would have done it,” he insists. It sounds weak, even to himself.

She shakes her head, ears flapping, and sighs. “Kisuke,” she says, her voice so understanding it hurts. “You shouldn’t have to.”

He doesn’t have the heart to call her out on her hypocrisy. Though, to be fair, she never sent Soi Fon away to die.

 

* * *

 

And so, he plans. He throws together what equipment he has that can help, and starts calling on all his contacts. Yoruichi watches from her perch on a shelf above him, before wandering off. He doesn’t worry. He’ll have work for her soon enough.

There’s a hard set to Ichigo’s jaw the next time the boy comes around. He eyes the black sleeve covering one forearm that Ichigo’s taken to wearing with his summer uniform, and says nothing. He knows he’s running out of time.

He still doesn’t tell Ichigo. If there’s one thing Kisuke’s learned after all these years, it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

(He ignores the dark whisper in the back of his mind that says, “He will never forgive you.”)

He works, and he plans.

So when Tenth Division Captain Hitsugaya Toshiro arrives with his lieutenant, Matsumoto Rangiku, Kisuke is ready.

By the time he throws on his haori and strides for the front door, Tessai is there, holding it open for him in a silent question. A shadow darts from the depths of the shop and leaps for his shoulder. Kisuke doesn’t flinch. He waits for the cat to settle, before turning to Tessai.

“Wait for my call,” he says, thanks and an order in one. Tessai nods; and he is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate chapter title: it was not fine
> 
> Am I proposing that Ururu and Jinta were human souls injected with Hollowfication that Kisuke saved? Hell yes I am


	3. your match

Kisuke sends Arisawa Tatsuki to Soul Society with nothing but an asauchi from a dead shinigami he’d failed to save – along with the last Quincy, her two human friends, and a cat.

It sounds like the start of a bad joke.

But it works. What’s important is that it works, and far better than he could have ever expected.

Later, after he has apologized to Arisawa for the deception, after they have all gone home and it’s just Kisuke and Tessai and a cat in the sitting room of the shop, Yoruichi tells him everything. 

Ichimaru Gin had been waiting for them from the start. So she led them to Kukaku, intent on using her cannon to gain entry. The clan head herself hadn’t been home, but her brother Ganju was. All he needed to hear was “save Shiba Ichigo” and he had ushered them to the cannon himself.

But because it had been Ganju casting and not Kukaku, the cannonball landed on the barrier but does not break through. It took an arrow from Ishida Uryuu and a punch from Sado Yasutora to finish the job. It also left them scattered across Soul Society, with Arisawa and Inoue Orihime in one group, Yoruichi with Sado, and Ishida on his own.

While the humans were running around, causing chaos and attracting attention, Yoruichi took Sado along to get more accurate information on the state of Soul Society. As Kisuke had predicted, Aizen took advantage of the confusion to stage his own plans, starting with faking his death.

Kisuke hadn’t dared count on Ichigo’s friends too much, not after Soul Society had condemned her own with nary a trial nor protest a hundred years ago. But they had pulled through, in the end.

Ichigo’s friend Hitsugaya and his lieutenant had taken it upon themselves to investigate the suddenness of Ichigo’s execution and Aizen’s death. Kukaku, in the middle of petitioning for more time, found Arisawa and Inoue. She helped them hide from their pursuers, and sent them Ichigo’s way. Ishida stumbled first on Kuchiki Rukia and Abarai Renji, who then helped him escape from Kuchiki Byakuya, of all people.  

And the Shihouin Shield had done well in Kyouraku and Ukitake’s hands.

At the end of Yoruichi’s tale, Kisuke sits back. The cup in his hand is empty, and what tea is left inside the teapot has gone cold. Tessai sits on his left, ever-steady. Yoruichi gazes at Kisuke, her golden eyes unblinking.

“You’ve spent a century trying to keep the Hogyoku out of Aizen’s hands,” Tessai says, his voice low. “Are you sure about this, tenchou?”

Kisuke takes a deep breath and exhales. Now that Aizen has his hands on the Hogyoku, it will only be a matter of time before it awakens. His army of Arrancar will be stronger than ever. But at the same time, Soul Society now knows of Aizen’s betrayal. They are no longer fighting alone.

“Yes,” Kisuke says firmly.

What comes will come. And when it does, he will be ready.

 

* * *

 

He is not ready.

Aizen’s attempt to scout out Karakura had been expected, even if Kisuke’s response had been late (almost too late). Though Arisawa, Inoue, and Sado had managed to hold the Arrancar off together, it had taken Arisawa’s bankai and the near-loss of Sado’s arm to do so.

Soul Society’s response had also been expected. Interfering in human affairs isn’t something they do often. But with a substitute shinigami on the ground and a go-between in the form of Ichigo, it’s the sound tactical decision.

No, what Kisuke isn’t ready for is the reiatsu signature he can feel at the very edge of his senses. He hadn’t even needed his sensors to alert him of the senkaimon opening. The minute Shiba Ichigo stepped back into the world of the living, Kisuke had known.

And the minute he started walking towards the shop, Kisuke had known as well.

(“He will never forgive you.”)

He stays in his lab. He feels Tessai meet Ichigo at the door, then show him in. His hands pick up flasks and samples and printed readings, only to put them down again. His ears strain for the sound of footsteps, even as he tracks the reiatsu signature moving closer and closer.

The door opens. He turns, blinking, as if he hadn’t been tracking Ichigo’s movements as much as he was able since the shinigami had left Arisawa’s house. “Ah, Shiba-san!” Kisuke reaches for his fan, and realizes he left it outside. He turns the awkward gesture into a sweep of his hand. “Welcome! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Kisuke takes in Ichigo’s broad shoulders and even stance hungrily. He’s in the same school uniform he had worn so many times when visiting the shop. If Kisuke wanted to, he could pretend the last few months hadn’t happened.

Ichigo is safe. He’s safe, and it worked, so it’s fine.

He raises his gaze to Ichigo’s conflicted expression and feels his smile shift into something small and wry. Ichigo notices – of course he notices. His lips flatten into a straight line. His eyes harden into that determined stare that had caught Kisuke’s attention so many months ago.

“Urahara-san,” Ichigo says. “Will you… let me see your arm?”

Without a word, Kisuke raises his arm, fingers curled loosely, palm up. He watches, that same, small smile on his face, as Ichigo strides forward. For the first time since  _ that _ night, he feels Ichigo’s fingers close around his wrist. The hair on the back of Kisuke’s neck rises at his touch. Ichigo’s free hand pushes back Kisuke’s sleeve.

His eyes widen at the pale expanse of skin. Nothing.

Kisuke’s expression falls into something more solemn. Gently, he turns his arm over. Ichigo loosens his hold, in a way that leaves him holding Kisuke’s hand in his.

Below Kisuke’s wrist sits a full moon inked in black, framed by a pair of shoji doors.

Ichigo traces the lines with hesitant, near-reverent fingers. He stops, his index and middle finger smack dab in the middle of the mark. A sigh escapes his lips. He turns their hands, so this time it’s Ichigo’s hand in Kisuke’s. Kisuke’s gaze travels up Ichigo’s arm – his  _ bare _ arm – and lands just below his elbow, on the back of his forearm.

The same mark brands his skin.

Kisuke raises his free hand and presses his own fingers against Ichigo’s mark – the lightest touch. For a moment, he feels a flash of apprehension and anticipation, clashing within him. Then, it’s gone.

“Urahara-san-” Ichigo starts. Kisuke steps away, silencing him. Never breaking eye contact, Kisuke bends his knee, then the other. At last, with one fist pressed against the ground, the other pressing his hat to his breast, he bows.

“I’m sorry.”

A beat.

“Idiot.” Ichigo sighs. Kisuke flinches; it's hidden, but it's there. Except - Ichigo doesn't leave, which he should, it's only right. But all Ichigo does is shift his weight, in a way that makes Kisuke think of crossed arms and an amber gaze peeking at him from the side.

“You needed to do it, right?” A tanned hand breaches his field of vision. Kisuke looks up, into Ichigo’s gentle frown. “And you helped Tatsuki save me, in the end.” He takes a deep breath, and lets it out in a huff. “So next time, just tell me.”

Kisuke stares.

Is this what it means to be accepted, then?

The lines on Ichigo’s face deepen. “Are you just going to leave me hanging here?” he demands. Kisuke watches the pink crawl up his ears and huffs out a laugh.

“You are truly remarkable, Shiba-san,” he says, taking the proffered hand. Ichigo pulls him up with a grunt.

“I told you,” he says, looking Kisuke straight in the eye. “Ichigo’s fine.”

There’s an emphasis there that hadn’t been there before. Kisuke looks back, at those hooded brown eyes that had haunted him every night since he sent Arisawa Tatsuki away. In his mind, there is a precipice, inviting him to step forward. But Kisuke… hesitates.

He isn’t ready. Not yet.

“Ichigo-san then,” he says, his smile cheeky. Ichigo’s eye twitches.

And yet, again, he doesn’t push it. “Fine.” He flops onto the couch Yoruichi insisted Kisuke put inside the lab and nods at the workstation the scientist had abandoned. "Tell me about what you're up to."

And just like that, it’s back to their old routine. Only this time, Ichigo isn’t leaning against a wall of the shop, watching Kisuke putter around. This time, they’re in Kisuke’s lab, where even Tessai and Yoruichi aren’t allowed to go.

Ichigo prods Kisuke with innocuous questions, Kisuke replies. Their banter is stiff at first, then slides back into place.

Once, Kisuke sneaks a glance at Ichigo. He’s facing Kisuke, cheek resting against the back of the couch, his expression impossibly soft.

The flutter of hope in Kisuke’s chest is so foreign it almost makes him giddy.

 

* * *

 

For the past 40 years, Ichigo has largely put the thought of soulmates out of his mind. It was easier that way. First it had been Kaien’s death, and all the work that went into the aftermath. Kukaku had to be installed as clan head, and Ganju as heir. It had taken weeks to sort through the whole affair. Then Ichigo had to train with his new shikai, work through his promotion, and adjust to his new division – all while gritting his teeth and forcibly ignoring how much he wanted Kaien to be there.

The moment he felt the soul bond form had been like a splash of cold water in his face. He had felt shock, joy, a sense of wholeness; all crashing against him, like waves on a cliff.

Except… the guy- his soulmate- kept avoiding him, and would make no mention of soulmates, ever. Which, okay, fair. Ichigo hadn’t been sure how he felt about a stranger being his be all, end all in life either.

He couldn’t outright ask Urahara if he's his soulmate, because even Ichigo has his limits, and a soulmate is a very intimate and private thing. He's not stupid. He  _ can  _ take a hint, no matter what Rukia would say. Ichigo’s been avoided by his dad for most of his life. This isn’t anything new.

But he had also been… curious. He wanted -  _ wants _ \- to get to know the guy that’s supposed to be the other half of his soul. So he kept coming back.

If Urahara wanted him to leave, the guy could damn well tell him to his face.

Of course, he didn’t plan on the guy sticking a- a doomsday machine in him and sending him off to die.

Which is why Ichigo had come barging in here in the first place. He had been ready with questions, accusations. Ichigo refused to believe that the other half of his soul would be the kind of person that would do that to their soulmate.

He had been prepared to yank an explanation out of Urahara.

He had not been prepared for the man to kneel at his feet and apologize.

And Ichigo- Ichigo’s anger had bled away, just like that.

(He’s not stupid. Aizen’s casual explanation, the story Ichigo had gotten out of Ukitake… The pieces are there. Incomplete, but there. He hates it, but he gets it too. He just wishes, deeply, bitterly, that Kisuke had trusted him enough to ask. And knows enough that the man never would have.)

Leaning against Kisuk- Urahara’s couch, basking in the back and forth between them he hadn’t realized he’d missed, Ichigo wrestles with his need for an explanation and the desire to respect his soulmate’s space.

It’s almost a relief when the Arrancar attack.

 

* * *

 

Fighting alongside Tatsuki makes Ichigo’s heart swell with something that feels suspiciously like pride. Her bankai - and damnit, she and Toshiro both beat him to it - is a glory to behold.

Gold and silver armor glints on her torso, forearms, and legs. Blades grow from her bracers and her shins, a deadly promise for anyone on the wrong end of her elbows and knees. The ones on her bracers reach beyond her gauntlets, giving her every punch a cutting edge. Blue fire trails from her ankles and elbows, powering up her every move. And if that isn’t enough, eight thin blades with clawed handles circle around her, ready to pierce her enemy at a moment’s notice. Sado and Ichigo can barely keep up.

They lose, anyway. If Tousen hadn't interfered - and, yes, Ichigo  _ can _ see the irony in that – he, Sado, and Tatsuki would be dead. As it is, they have to lean on each other to make it to Orihime’s place, so she can stop Ichigo’s guts from trying to spill out and close the cuts soaking Sado’s chest and Tatsuki’s shoulder with blood.

Grimmjow is only the sixth strongest of the Arrancar, and he had almost killed all three of them without even releasing his sword. Ichigo has spent a month looking at the sky through a slit in the wall, waiting for help. There’s no way in hell he’s going to do it again.

So, the next day, he heads over to Urahara’s shop.

To his surprise, he finds Rukia and Renji already there. Apparently, they had spent the night. For a moment, he wonders if he should say something. Renji has a secret protective side that only gets egged on by Rukia’s particular brand of spite.

Okay, maybe he hasn’t forgiven Urahara  _ that _ much.

It does mean that the training room’s a little crowded when he asks him, “Can you teach me how you gained bankai in three days?”

There’s a crash in the distance, as Tatsuki misses Yoruichi by a hair and leaves a crater on the ground. It’s followed by an explosion from Renji’s Hikotsu Taihou, meeting Sado’s spiritually charged punch. Rukia is standing off to the side, her gaze on Ichigo, but too far to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Urahara just blinks at him. For a second, Ichigo thinks he hadn’t heard. Then, he smiles, putting a hand on his hat and tilting it forward. There’s a glint in his eyes that sparks something in Ichigo’s gut.

“Are you sure?” Urahara asks, his voice light. “It will be quite dangerous. Even reducing the time to three days already involves a high risk of death.”

The glint in Urahara’s eyes is a challenge. Ichigo takes a breath, and feels the roar of a dragon thrum in his bones. An answering smirk spreads across his face.

Toshiro had learned bankai in eight years. Tatsuki and Urahara had learned it in three days.

“Fine then,” he says. “I’ll learn it in two.”

He can see Urahara’s eyebrows rising into the shadows of his hat. But, if anything, the light in his eyes only grows brighter.

“I look forward to it,” he says, with all sincerity.

* * *

 

A huge roar echoes through the space, freezing everyone in the room.

"You didn’t tell us your zanpakuto spirit is a giant sea serpent, Ichigo-san," Urahara says mildly.

"Ah," Ichigo says, shading his eyes with a hand. "Should I have mentioned that?"

 

* * *

 

_ “A soulmate?” The deep, silky voice slips over his skin like oil, as Aizen’s impassionate gaze sweeps over the mark in Ichigo’s elbow. Choking on the weight of the reiatsu pressing down on him, Ichigo shudders at the feeling. He claws at the air, at the vice around his wrist. Anything, anything to stop him from looking. Anything, to banish the physical sensation of being stripped down to the core of his soul. _

_ “They must be very unfortunate indeed,” Aizen muses, as if commenting on the weather. “Did you manage to say goodbye?” _

“Ichigo-”

Ichigo jerks upwards with a gasp. Water splashes around him, even as it goes up his nose. He splutters, flailing—

Strong hands grab him by the arms and haul him out of the water. He struggles, clawing at pale skin – he’s stronger now, he won’t let him, he  _ won’t- _ !

“Ichigo-san!”

Panting, he stares up at Kisuke. Gray eyes look at him with unveiled concern. The sight of them fills Ichigo with so much relief, he flops back onto the ground, limp. “Kis-” A shock of thrill down his spine, clashing with the bitter taste of anxiety like a sudden, sharp inhale. “-Urahara-san,” Ichigo amends.

He doesn’t know how to interpret the look on Urahara’s face. The man pulls back, so there’s more than enough space between them. Water drips on Ichigo’s cheeks from the man’s wet hair. In fact – Ichigo pushes himself onto his elbows, his gaze traveling down broad shoulders and a sharp collarbone – Urahara’s front is completely soaked.

He twists to look behind him. Waves still lap along the edges of the hot spring he had fallen asleep in. The ground beyond it is dark brown with water, ending in a loose pool underneath him.

Under his naked body.

Heat floods his face before he can stop it. He shouldn’t feel embarrassed, he _shouldn’t,_ but suddenly all he can think of is Urahara behind him, too close behind him, watching his blush creep down to his shoulders.

Dark green fills his vision. He blinks as Urahara’s haori settles backwards over his front. If anything, it just makes him feel more embarrassed. He tosses it over his shoulders, putting his arms in the proper sleeves and pulling the open front closed. He forces himself to say, “Thanks,” even if it sounds more like a grunt.

“You’re welcome.” Damn him. Ichigo can hear the laughter in Urahara’s voice all over again. “Try not to fall asleep in the hot springs again. I hear it’s a bad habit to have.”

_ Dark, brown eyes slip over Ichigo’s skin, leaving behind the sensation of cold slime, while he suffocates, even as he instinctively tries to shield his mark from- _

“Ichigo-san.” Ichigo yanks himself out of the memory. He’s breathing hard again, clutching the haori like a lifeline. Kis-  _ Urahara  _ is giving him that solemn, concerned look. He watches him reach out, then hesitate. When Ichigo doesn’t flinch away, he rests his hand on his shoulder.

The touch is soft, tentative. It isn’t enough, Ichigo realizes. Suddenly, he wants more, something to ground him in the reality where Aizen is far away, and it’s just him and- and Urahara here.

He frees one hand from its white-knuckled grip on the haori, and covers the one Urahara placed on his shoulder. He feels Urahara’s fingers twitch, which only makes him tighten his hold. It takes the blond but a moment to understand. The hand on Ichigo’s shoulder squeezes, until its grip feels strong enough to be an anchor that’ll keep Ichigo out of the past.

A sigh escapes him.

Aizen doesn’t know. K- Urahara is safe. Ichigo is safe.

Urahara holds on, his gaze never wavering from Ichigo. Ichigo can see it, in the periphery of his vision. It’s comforting – safe. Only when Ichigo completely relaxes does Urahara speak.

“Perhaps it’s time for you to head back to Arisawa-san’s,” he says.

Did his tone waver at the end? Is Ichigo just imagining the invitation lying under those gentle words?

He looks up at Urahara, at that solemn, unreadable expression, and opens his mouth.

“Are you… working on anything, right now?”

Urahara blinks. Slowly, a smile stretches across his face. Ichigo finds himself watching with a fascination that’s just embarrassing. It’s not his shopkeeper’s smile. It’s a smile Ichigo’s only ever caught out of the corner of his eye. It’s the first time he’s had it directed at him.

Something tightens around Ichigo’s chest. It’s a different kind of difficult-to-breathe.

He likes it.

“Here.” Urahara stands, then holds his hand out to Ichigo. Ichigo takes it, rising with a huff. “How about we both get a change of clothes, then I’ll tell you about my portable gigai.” Ichigo’s already bending to pick up his clothes when he adds, “Not that I don’t enjoy the view, of course.”

Ichigo turns so fast he almost gets whiplash. But Urahara’s already walking away, hand in the air, saying, “I’ll meet you in my lab, Ichigo-san.”

He doesn’t realize he’s grinning until Kisuke’s gone.

 

* * *

 

If Kisuke thought he had been attached to Ichigo before, it’s nothing compared to the fire he feels at seeing Ichigo beat down a serpent as tall as Sokyoku Hill. More than once, he finds himself drawn from his lab to the training area. His lips twitch as he resists the urge to mimic the wild, toothy grin on his soulmate’s face. Somewhere, in the depths of his heart, he hears a song, and knows the mirror of his soul approves.

Yoruichi, when she’s not training Tatsuki, will not stop giving him smug, knowing looks. He ignores her. She  _ has  _ earned the right to be smug.

To top it all off, Ichigo  _ does  _ achieve bankai in two days. Just as promised. And against his behemoth of a zanpakuto spirit too.

It takes Kisuke’s breath away.

The moment Zangetsu disappears from the tenshintai, Ichigo’s eyes meet his. There’s a glow to his face, the triumph of proving oneself to their zanpakuto spirit. But there’s a cocky grin too, and Kisuke’s own challenge reflected back at him.  _ Well?  _ those eyes ask.

This time, Kisuke doesn’t hold back. He lets his own smirk spread across his face, his gaze alight with the fire that’s been burning inside him the past few days.

He’s gratified by the color that rises to Ichigo’s cheeks.

The imp doesn’t even take a moment to rest. The next day, he’s dragging an outraged Hitsugaya down the stairs. “I’ve been waiting an entire decade to kick your face in with a bankai,” he declares, voice filled with glee. “Now you’re going to let me do it.”

“As if I’d let you!” says the Tenth Division captain, affronted. Kisuke wanders after them, watching with amusement. There’s a tension along Hitsugaya’s spine that disappears around Ichigo, as though that haori on his shoulders loses some of its weight. It makes him seem more like the child he appears to be.

Kisuke can see Hitsugaya eyeing the training area, studying the room of a man expelled from Soul Society. Ichigo has no such hesitation.

“Tear down the skies, Zangetsu!” In a flash of blue reiatsu, his oversized katana morphs into a giant black blade, shaped like a fang. Its silver hilt is covered in black leather, while a white cloth trails from the end.

Hitsugaya twitches, but follows. “Sit upon the frozen heavens, Hyourinmaru!” The temperature drops, as Hitsugaya’s shikai roars with the sound of cracking ice.

Ichigo grins, and raises his sword. “Bankai! Tensa Zangetsu!”

Kisuke slaps a hand over his hat, right before the shockwave blasts over him. Hitsugaya shields his eyes with an arm, bracing against the dust Ichigo raised.

A black daito pierces the cloud of dust, pointed right at Hitsugaya. Its serrated edge glints in the light. “Well, Toshiro?” Ichigo calls out. “I’m growing old, here!”

The scowl on Hitsugaya’s face hasn’t left. But there’s interest there now, the guarded anticipation of a rival awaiting what his friend has for him next. “Fine! Bankai – Daiguren Hyourinmaru!”

Again, a rush of cold wind tugs at the cloth under Kisuke’s hands, sending his haori flapping behind him. It does blow back the dust, however, revealing Ichigo’s bankai in all its glory.

The biggest noticeable change is to Ichigo’s shihakusho. Wrapped around him is a long, tight-fitting coat, colored in a black deeper than the night. It flares out into four flaps with ragged ends, just as iridescent as the dark fins that they’re shaped after. A silver chain made of round links wraps around his waist, with the end trailing loosely down his hip.

The white, overlapping circles that make up his gauntlets shift as he slashes his sword through the air in front of him. The chain at the end of his sword clinks with the movement, identical to the one around his waist. Even from this far, Kisuke can see the sliver of silver curled around one side of his sword’s otherwise round, black guard.

“That’s more like it,” Ichigo declares. His smile is all teeth.

“ _ That’s  _ your bankai?” Hitsugaya asks, eyebrows raised high. Ichigo bristles at the insinuation.

“Come over here and say that to my face!” he yells. For the first time since they entered the shop, Kisuke sees Hitsugaya smile.

“With pleasure!” he retorts, and charges towards Ichigo.

Kisuke feels more than hears the familiar reiatsu signature drop in. Metal clashes against metal, drowning out the sound of leather shoes on stone.

Not that Hirako would have made a sound.

“That him, then?”

Kisuke glances to the side. Hirako shades his eyes, the corners of his wide mouth downturned. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific,” Kisuke says.

“I bet it’s the orange kid,” the blond continues, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Lookin’ at him, you’d think Christmas’d come early. The fight’s in his blood.”

Kisuke glances back at the two Shinigami duking it out. Hitsugaya sends an ice dragon screaming through the air. Ichigo dodges, leaving it to crash into the ground below. Blue reiatsu pools into the blade of his sword, darkening as it goes. “Getsuga Tenshou!” he cries, sending the darkness in an arc towards Hitsugaya.

He can feel the heat of the fight in his bones, and knows it isn’t his own. “As observant as ever, Hirako-san,” he says.

Finally, Hirako turns his gaze towards him. He doesn’t tell Kisuke to call him Shinji, Kisuke notes with a bitter smile. “Still sticking out yer neck, Kisuke?” Hirako asks.

“It worked out this time,” Kisuke replies.

Hirako’s frown deepens. “Ya think it’s safe to trust them? Even after what they did?” He shakes his head. “This is why Hiyori’s still mad at you, ya know.”

Kisuke doesn’t dignify that with a response. A hundred years have passed, and still he marvels at how Hirako can make him feel like that fresh, anxious captain of so long ago.

Hirako sighs. He lifts his hat and runs a hand through his hair. He puts it back on, wrinkling his nose at yet another crash from the two fighting it out across from them. “The Visored won’t help a shinigami. Ya know that. Not even if they’re yer soulmate.”

“That’s alright,” Kisuke says. Above them, he can feel more reiatsu signatures approaching. “It’s not a shinigami you’ll be helping.”

Tatsuki’s landing is almost as soundless as Hirako’s. Yoruichi’s been teaching her well. She spares the stranger next to Kisuke a glance, before her attention is drawn towards the noisy battle in the distance. “Um, Urahara-san?” She jerks a thumb towards the pair, right as Ichigo carves another canyon into the ground. “Should we be worried?”

“Bah, leave them to it. I hear they’ve been trying to cut each other’s heads off since the Academy.” Abarai isn’t so dismissive. He eyes Hirako with suspicion.

Hirako sneers.

Kisuke ignores their posturing and turns to the rest of the newcomers. Yoruichi greets Hirako with a nod; Sado watches but says nothing.

And behind them, Inoue stays back, still hesitant after Kisuke’s harsh words a few days before.

Ichigo had cornered him afterwards, demanding an explanation. Maybe Kisuke shouldn’t have been so surprised to learn that Ichigo’s stubbornness extends to people he cares about. Ichigo hadn’t heard the initial exchange – too busy pounding Zangetsu into the dust – but the minute Tatsuki told him about it, he had no qualms turning right back around to the shop.

(The other half of his soul. Really, wouldn’t Kisuke have done the same in his place? Though, perhaps, he would have investigated on his own instead.)

Kisuke had been ready to keep his mouth shut. He’s used to keeping his plans close to his chest, while his companions trust him to see them through. But then Ichigo had huffed, and looked at him with those fierce, brown eyes, and said, “Trust me.”

And in the back of his head, Kisuke heard, “Next time, just tell me.”

(What does it mean, for someone else to understand?)

It was like stepping into cold water for the first time. Kisuke remembers taking a deep breath, before laying out in simple terms how Inoue’s power could move the war forward by  _ months _ . And Ichigo listened.

And he delivered, beyond Kisuke’s expectations.

“You have to let Inoue train.” His words echo in Kisuke’s mind. “They saw her heal Sado, didn’t they? Then Aizen will come after her anyway. Making her think she’s useless will only make her even more vulnerable.”

Kisuke remembers the look in his eyes, shadowed by a memory only he could see. That was when Kisuke realized he isn’t the only one who knows what Aizen is truly capable of anymore.

Ichigo had gotten a front row seat to the monster that is Aizen Sousuke, after all.

“Thank you for coming, Inoue-san. You’re just in time.” He waves her over.

It’s the closest to an apology that he’ll give. She watches him with uncertain eyes, but steps forward. He turns to face Hirako, and finds some amusement in the man’s raised eyebrows. “Hirako-san, this is Inoue Orihime-san. Tessai-san tells me Ushouda-san would be interested to meet her.”

Kisuke still isn’t sure arming Inoue is the answer. But Ichigo had looked him in the eye and said, “Trust me.”

And Kisuke finds that he wants to.

* * *

 

Ichigo learns in leaps and bounds. Arisawa keeps up out of sheer stubbornness. Usouda goes the extra mile and teaches Inoue how to structure her barriers. With Kisuke’s help, she learns how to turn the fact that they can move to her advantage. Sado lasts longer against Abarai everyday.

From what Kisuke can tell, the shinigami that aren’t in his training area are busy training within their Inner Worlds. Hitsugaya alternates between meditating with them, and sparring with Ichigo. Kisuke doubts any of them will achieve bankai so soon without help. From Hitsugaya’s pinched expression, he most likely thinks the same.

They don’t ask Kisuke for a Tenshintai. He doesn’t offer.

In between all this, Ichigo somehow finds the time to stay behind at the shouten. If anything, he spends more time at the shouten than he does sleeping over at Arisawa’s. Kisuke hoards those late nights in his lab like a miser with gold. It feels like they’re building something soft and delicate, a house of cards that could fall any moment.

And still, Ichigo does not leave. He  _ doesn’t want to leave. _

Every time Kisuke thinks of it, he’s filled with a wonder that buzzes with joy. It’s almost… scary. But slowly, ever so slowly, Kisuke finds that he’s not terrified anymore.

He doesn’t want to be terrified anymore.

Every moment he manages to make Ichigo laugh is worth it.

Kisuke spits out a curse the minute the Arrancars’ reiatsu crashes down on them. Of course Aizen attacks two months early. Why wait and give his enemies time to prepare?

But it’s more than that. Aizen always has a plan hidden under another plan. So Kisuke rises to his feet, the reiatsu of the Gotei officers struggling at the edges of his senses. And, much closer, a familiar signature spikes.

“I’m coming with you,” Ichigo says, his expression fierce. He gets up from the sofa, slinging his sword onto his back.

Kisuke only smiles, and leads the way.

Things slot into place. They haven’t discussed their bond since the day Ichigo asked to see his arm. But it’s impossible not to know how much it has grown in the past month. Ichigo charges ahead without a word, sending a Getsuga Tenshou at the tentacled Arrancar before they could stab Matsumoto in the face.

Kisuke steps in when the Arrancar child leaps for Ichigo, catching the child in the side with a “Nake, Benihime.” Ichigo shoots him a concerned look – Kisuke's lips twitch in amusement – but turns to block the tentacle arrowing for Matsumoto again. Kisuke, meanwhile, focuses on dealing with the Arrancar child and… Yammy, from the first incursion.

Like this, it’s almost like he and Ichigo are standing back to back.

It feels right.

The child shoots a blast of energy that forces Kisuke back. He pulls out his portable gigai just in time to catch Yammy’s attack.

Aha. Bala, is it?

He feels Ichigo’s concern again. It’s touching, but he’ll be fine. He hides in the trees, watching Yammy fire bala after bala. In the distance, he sees Ichigo free Madarame and Ayasegawa. A tentacle tries to strike Ichigo as its owner screams in rage, only for it to get shredded as it passes through Matsumoto’s shikai.

They have a quick exchange, and then Ichigo’s darting for Yammy. He doesn’t waste time, activating his bankai as he goes. Ichigo dodges every bala Yammy throws at him, before throwing a Getsuga Tenshou of his own.

Yammy dodges, and Kisuke is  _ there.  _ His red-coated blade digs deep into Yammy’s shoulder. A flash of red light, and the arm is falling to the ground below.

Yammy roars, in time to the snap of ice coating his tentacled friend.

“You’re late,” Ichigo gripes. Kisuke laughs, light and airy.

“I’ll try to do better in the future,” he says. Ichigo smirks at him, triumph and thrill mixing in a predator’s grin. He smirks back.

It’s enough to piss Yammy off even further. “ _ Don’t fuck with me! _ ” he screams, and charges for them.

They split. Ichigo goes for Yammy’s wounded side, and scores a line below his ribs. The Hollow roars and tries to punch him. Ichigo shunpos away. Yammy spots Kisuke to his right and blasts him with another bala; Kisuke negates it.

Ichigo reappears behind Yammy and slashes down.

Another arm falls.

Yammy shrieks in fury, but stays standing. Ichigo darts back to Kisuke’s side. “This guy’s one tough customer,” he pants. A smile tugs at Kisuke’s lips, then drops. No matter how fast he achieved bankai, it’s still the first time Ichigo’s had to use it in combat.

In the distance, another Hollow’s reiatsu spikes. Ichigo’s eyes widen as he turns to face it. “Tatsuki.”

They’re out of time.

“Ichigo-san,” Kisuke starts.

Ulquiorra appears behind them.

The bala is fast, too fast, faster than Yammy’s. They turn, and there’s a hole in Ichigo’s shoulder. Kisuke sees his eyes widen. Kisuke sees his mouth open in a scream, only to choke as a white hand grabs him by the collar and yanks him back.

And Kisuke  _ knows. _

Fear turns everything sharp and cold. He reaches out with his left hand, his sword screaming for Ulquiorra’s head in his right. Ichigo reaches back.

The yellow light of a Negación slams between their fingertips.

“ _ Ichigo! _ ” Benihime’s red fire is already crashing against the barrier. Kisuke steps back, heart in his throat, trying to remember everything he’s researched about Negación, trying to think of a way through,  _ now- _

Ulquiorra looks at him, his face impassive. “Aizen-sama sends his regards… Urahara Kisuke.”

Kisuke goes cold.

_ He knows. _

Ichigo elbows Ulquiorra in the gut. He yanks himself out of the Arrancar’s loosened grip and slams against the Negación.

Terror fills his eyes. He cries out.

_ “Kisuk-” _

The yellow light disappears, taking with it the one thing Kisuke let himself want to keep.

 

* * *

 

Not again, not again; it’s his worst nightmare come to life and he’s trapped,  _ again.  _ Ichigo thrashes against Ulquiorra’s iron grip, even if the pain from his shoulder makes his vision white out, and the Arrancar is dragging him more than he’s leading him to- to somewhere.

Is his arm still even there? Ichigo doesn’t know. For all he knows, it could be hanging by a sliver. It hurts. That’ll still be true, whether it’s there or not. His sword had long since dropped from loose fingers, clipping itself to the chain around his waist. It clatters against the ground, making Ichigo wince with every clang and screech.

Ulquiorra dumps him in a wide room with a balcony, overlooking the blue sky of Las Noches. “Kinda roomy for a dungeon,” Ichigo gasps, struggling to push himself up.

“It’s not a dungeon.”

Dread slams down. Slowly, slowly, he looks up, and locks eyes with Aizen. The man smiles, rising from his white seat.  

“We meet again, Shiba Ichigo.”

That calm, passionless voice. The unchanging hint of mild amusement on his face, as if everything is merely entertainment to him.

And Ichigo finds he can move again.

With a scream, he grabs his sword with his uninjured hand and leaps for Aizen’s neck. He doesn’t think. There’s only terror and fury mixing together in a burst of adrenaline that sends him across the room, zanpakuto swinging down-

His leg gives out under him. The pain comes after, another shriek ripping out of his mouth as he spasms from the hole in his hip, courtesy of Ulquiorra.

Aizen only smiles.

“To think you were even more valuable than I thought,” he says. Ichigo stares at nothing, forcing back every whimper that threatens to leave him. All he can see are immaculate white shoes tapping against black tile, moving closer and closer.

Breathe. Breathe. But don’t make a sound. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

“Tell me, Ichigo.” Aizen’s voice slithers over his skin. “How far would Urahara Kisuke go for you?”

How did he know? How did he know? Ichigo can’t move, will  _ not  _ move, will not give him the satisfaction. His fingers spasm anyway.

“Are you wondering how I know?” And he can hear the laughter in that voice, hear the amusement, like an adult laughing at a child’s cluelessness. “It was a fortunate coincidence, I assure you. I had only been meaning to test Wonderweiss, after all. But I knew you had a soulmate, and I knew you met them during your time in Karakura Town.”

Shut up.

“I was observing the fight, of course. Imagine my surprise when I saw you fighting together with Urahara Kisuke. Your level of coordination was truly remarkable.”

Shut up. Shut up.

“A soul bond is such a wondrous thing, isn’t it?”

“ _ Shut up- _ ” Ichigo snarls, pushing himself up to his elbow. Anything to shut him up. Anything to make him stop.

“Let’s see if we can break it.”

Ichigo’s head snaps up. He stares at Aizen, horror making his eyes go wide and his jaw drop. Aizen smiles down on him. “Did you know that Hollows have no concept of soulmates?” he asks lightly. He turns his head, to where Ulquiorra stands, out of Ichigo’s sight. “Isn’t that right, Ulquiorra?”

“Yes, Aizen-sama.” Ulquiorra’s voice is cold with disinterest. “There are no stories of connected souls in Hueco Mundo, save the one that you know of.”

“Starrk’s situation is different, I believe.” Satisfied, Aizen turns away, heading back to his seat. No. Back to a column rising out of the floor, swiveling open to reveal-

Ichigo shudders at the new reiatsu in the air. Something in him calls back; like tasting a scent he hadn’t known he’d breathed in before. “That’s- you can’t-”

Aizen looks back, and shakes his head in disappointment. “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure out how to awaken the Hogyoku sooner?” He picks up the instrument, and starts walking towards Ichigo. “Let me show you.”

Panic overtakes any pride Ichigo might have. He shoves at the floor with his lone hand, trying to scramble away. His weight lands on his injured leg, forcing out a scream.

“Don’t you- don’t you  _ dare- _ ”

Aizen smiles.

“You will thank me in the end, Shiba Ichigo. I will give you power no shinigami has ever known.”

 

* * *

 

How did he know?  _ How did he know?  _ The thought echoes in Kisuke’s head like a scream in a dark cave.

Kisuke is back in the skies above Karakura Town. He reaches out to grab Ichigo, only to slam against the yellow light of the Negación. Ichigo screams, “ _ Kisuk- _ ” and disappears, mere inches away.

Pain wracks Kisuke’s body. He slams against the yellow light of the Negación, throwing shikai at it, throwing bankai, but Ichigo only curls in on himself and screams.

The sky is gone. There’s only a dark room, and the sliver of light from an open door. Kisuke recoils from it, terrified, but his leg hurts and his arm hurts and he can’t move his face. There’s something coming, and he is afraid.

And he’s facing Ichigo again, only there is no dark room, only the dark. Ichigo’s fear sweeps over him. He reaches out; Ichigo reaches out. But his fingers crumble away before they meet Kisuke’s. Ichigo is fading away, and Kisuke can only watch him try to reach out, screaming.

**_KISUKE!_ **

Kisuke wakes up in his bed in cold sweat. The light of the moon shines through his window. He throws off his covers, sits up, and tries to stop shaking.

Yoruichi had all but sat on him to keep him from charging to Hueco Mundo right then and there. “You can’t afford to lose your mind right now,” she hissed, more cat than human as she pinned him to the shouten’s floor. “Aizen’s not going to kill him, and you know it. Rest. Wait for Soul Society to reestablish contact. And  _ plan. _ ”

He had looked up at her then, Benihime in his eyes. And she looked back, a promise in her own.

It’s the only reason he complied.

Soul Society lives up to his expectations. By the time Arisawa and her friends arrive at the shouten, he’s packed and ready to go.

“It should have been me, shouldn’t it.”

He turns.

“Orihime!” Arisawa cries, aghast. Sado’s face is grim, but he keeps his own judgment. Ishida, who has been training on his own all this time, looks the most surprised out of all of them.

But Inoue’s stricken face is directed only at him.

“Did he tell you?” Kisuke asks, his voice calm.

She shakes her head. Her long auburn hair swishes over her shoulders. “Just… something Hachi-san told me. And Shiba-kun said that Urahara-san never does anything without a reason, so-”

He knows his expression hasn’t changed. And yet, something must have shown on his face, because she cuts herself off before she could go any further.

He feels Yoruichi come up behind him. “Kisuke,” she says. He nods. A swish of his haori, and he’s down the stairs to the training area, where Tessai, Jinta, and Ururu wait. Behind them, the giant posts for the Garganta stand ready.

“Tessai-san.” The other man nods, equally serious. “I’ve left instructions in the event that the Gotei contact the shouten for help. You may forward them to Kurotsuchi-san. He will know what to do.” Kisuke spares a moment to look at the children in front of him. Jinta looks about ready to vibrate into the air in his frustration, while Ururu looks more lost than usual. “Take care, you two. Make sure you help Tessai-san, alright?”

It takes them a moment, but both nod in agreement.

He casts a sidelong glance at the humans behind him. “Are you ready?”

Arisawa opens her mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by the yell from above. “Wait!  _ Wait! _ ” Kuchiki and Abarai drop into the room, bypassing the ladder altogether. Panting, they run up to the group. “We’re coming with you,” Kuchiki says, her eyes violet and steel.

_ I can’t let them do this  _ clashes with  _ the bigger the group, the bigger the distraction.  _ And beneath all that is  _ more people I’ll be responsible for, will I fail them too? _

But there’s no time.

“Keep up,” is all Kisuke says. Abarai looks almost insulted.

They charge through Tessai’s Garganta. Kisuke takes the lead, creating a smooth path wide enough for their entire party to follow.

The air of Hueco Mundo is cold against his bare face. It’s different from the few incursions he’s done here as Onmitsukidou. He finds himself going quieter, a step back into the assassin of before. Yoruichi glances at him but says nothing.

“Is that it?” Arisawa points at the white towers in the distance. It’s the only other structure within sight.

Kisuke nods. He had Tessai bring them as close as he dared, without setting off Aizen’s alarms. Still, they have to ride the Hirenshoku to get there in minutes, when it would have taken hours on foot. The white cloth under his hands is a bitter reminder of the day he picked up Arisawa and her friends, triumphant from their success in saving Ichigo.

In the end, it’s what strengthens his resolve.

“I’ll be dropping you off here,” he tells the group once they reach the walls of Las Noches. “Yoruichi-san and I will find our own way in.”

“Wait, why are you going without us?” Abarai demands.

Arisawa’s gaze is hard. But there’s no resentment in her face when she nods. “We’re the distraction,” she says.

Abarai is a lieutenant. He didn’t get there by being stupid. He doesn’t bother protesting. He looks at the determined faces of his companions, then whirls on Kisuke. “How do we know we can trust you? You already screwed Ichigo over once. How do we know you’ll bring him back?”

Kisuke doesn’t have time for this. He looks Abarai in the eye and pulls down his sleeve.

Kuchiki gasps.

“What-” Ishida glances between the shocked shinigami and his more confused friends. Kisuke ignores him. He watches Abarai’s face shift from confusion, to realization, to fury. He opens his mouth to yell, only to choke as Kuchiki elbows him in the gut.

“Not now, Renji!” She turns her violet-and-steel eyes on Kisuke. For a moment, it feels like the temperature drops a couple of degrees.

“Bring him back,” she says. It’s not a request.

Kisuke tips his hat. “Yes, ma’am.” He doesn’t smile.

He fears that he’s left them behind to die. But he has to trust them. To trust that they can make it on their own. There are things he needs to take care of first.

He’s already failed Ichigo once. He won’t do it again.

Except he does, again, because when he follows the bond all the way to its source, all he sees is a large Hollow bound to the floor, wounded, rabid, snarling. The shock of orange hair trailing to the ground is enough to figure out who it is.

He steps forward.

“Kisuke, don’t-” Yoruichi darts forward, alarmed. The Hollow – Ichigo,  _ it’s Ichigo,  _ he’s going to rip Aizen to pieces and let them burn – whirls towards the sound, and roars. “- _ shit. _ ” A red light is already forming between Ichigo’s horns.

_ BOOM! _

The cero crashes against the far wall behind them. Kisuke ends his shunpo on the other side of the room from Yoruichi. “Please stay back, Yoruichi-san,” he says. His voice is cold. He shoves his anger to the back of his mind and focuses on the issue at hand.

“Kisuke, he can’t even recognize you-” she cuts herself off, dodging again as another cero punches through the air where she used to be. Kisuke takes the moment of distraction and steps forward again.

Ichigo’s head snaps toward him. He freezes. Slowly, he raises his hands. “Ichigo,” he says, lowering his voice into something soft, gentle. The Hollow’s eyes burn him with golden intensity. “Ichigo, it’s me-”

Ichigo  _ howls.  _ The bala is so fast Kisuke feels the heat from it as he dodges past. Ichigo follows him as he moves, firing one after the other until he has them cornered. With a grimace – he didn’t want to do this – Kisuke calls out Benihime and negates the last bullet, leaving the red light to dissipate in front of them.

Ichigo keens.

With a start, Kisuke understands. Ichigo isn’t mindless. He’s _angry._ Angry at Kisuke, yes- no, less at Kisuke himself and more in his direction. But most of it isn’t even directed at him. It’s directed somewhere far away… at some _one_ far away.

The suffocating feeling of a reiatsu that makes Kisuke of false pretenses under a pleasant smile-

His mind rushes through the data, and makes a connection.

“I’m not an illusion, Ichigo,” he says. “I’m not-” Yoruichi grabs his arm and yanks him out of the way of another cero. He ignores her, trusting her to watch his back as he focuses on talking Ichigo down. “Can’t you feel it?” he tries for a different track. “Our- our soul bond,” he doesn’t trip over the word, “You know it’s me. It led me here- Ichigo!”

Ichigo shrieks, his loudest sound yet. The hatred and fury spikes. Abandoning his cero, he throws himself against his chains, howling and screaming as he scrabbles for Kisuke’s face, mere inches away.

Yoruichi’s grip on his arm is so tight he can feel her cat’s claws digging into his skin. Kisuke’s not doing any better. He can feel every individual rope wrapped around Benihime’s hilt.

He can’t kill Aizen. Death would be too good for him.

What can he do? What else can he do? It feels like rain is falling inside his soul, flooding every limb. Ichigo wails and slinks down, snarling and snapping. But it’s weak. At this point, Kisuke doesn’t know where his despair ends and Ichigo’s starts.

“Kisuke,” Yoruichi whispers. Her expression is pained. She doesn’t look away from Ichigo.

What else can he do?

The assassin offers no answers. The guilty man drowns. The scientist… the scientist whispers.

Facts. Go back to facts. Illusions are lies, and lies can be broken down with proof. With enough details, a man can form his own line of reasoning.

And maybe, just maybe, it can change his mind.

“Have I told you about my Hirenshoku?” he says suddenly. Beside him, Yoruichi twitches.

Ichigo stills.

“It’s a special cloth I developed, after witnessing a Quincy’s Hirenkyaku. You wouldn’t have seen it; I used it to pick up Arisawa-san and the others after they returned from rescuing you.”

He can feel Yoruichi’s incredulous eyes drilling into his head. Gently, he pulls his arm out of her grip. His hand forms the Onmitsukidou signs for ‘stay’ and ‘wait.’ She squeezes his arm once, then lets go. He’ll ask for forgiveness later.

What’s important is that Ichigo has yet to move.

“Do you know how Hirenkyaku works?” Kisuke asks him.

For a moment, he’s in his lab again, his back turned to Ichigo. Ichigo would twist on the sofa to face him, his smile wry.  _ ‘Even if I did, you’d tell me anyway.’ _

Kisuke steps forward. Ichigo hisses and recoils. He freezes. When Ichigo makes no other move, he steps forward again.

“It’s the Quincy’s equivalent for Shunpo.” For every step he takes, he needs another moment to wait for Ichigo to calm down. “Instead of focusing on the amount of distance covered by a single step, they form a platform beneath them and ride the flow of reiatsu. Their speed then depends more on their reiatsu control, not their physical state.”  

An explosion sounds in the distance. Yoruichi gives the open door a wary look. “Kisuke…”

Ichigo hisses. Kisuke pauses again. He doesn’t look away from the yellow-on-black eyes staring at him.

He can’t hurry this. Yoruichi will have to take care of whatever’s coming for them.

“I tried to mimic it on cloth to create a mode of transportation that’s easy to carry around and direct. I was inspired by the human legend of flying carpets – have you heard of them? The stories are very entertaining.”

He’s so close now that he’s almost bracketed by Ichigo’s arms. He looks up into the mask that looms over his head.

“I’ll let you read some when we get back,” he whispers.

Ichigo opens his mouth.

**“Ki... su... ke...”**

Something snaps inside Kisuke. He presses a hand to the edge of Ichigo's mask, his head bowing until his hair just barely brushes the Hollow's face. “I'm sorry I'm late,” he whispers.

Humid breath ruffles his hair.  **“I... dio... t...”**

His fingers curl on white bone.

Ichigo shifts forward, pressing his mask against the top of Kisuke’s head. If Kisuke ignores the mask, it could even be called a kiss.

“Kisuke,” Yoruichi says, minutes and eons later.

“Right.” Reluctantly, Kisuke pulls away. Except it turns out it wasn’t a reminder, but the only warning he and Ichigo get before Arisawa and company burst into the room.

In a flash, Ichigo is on his hands and feet again, roaring at the intruders. Kisuke finds himself behind a very angry Hollow, whose tail is gently, but securely, wrapped around his waist. Everyone freezes in place, almost crashing into each other in their haste. It would have been funny under any other circumstance.

“Is that-” Kuchiki’s eyes are wide, her face pale behind the blood oozing from her forehead. Abarai is almost just as white, his expression a mirror of the fury Kisuke still feels boiling in the back of his mind.

He puts a hand on the white tail around him. “Ichigo,” he says. Inoue presses her hands over her lips.

A beat. The only sounds in the room are the children’s panting and the quiet hiss between Ichigo’s teeth.

Slowly, Ichigo pulls back. His tail stays around Kisuke’s waist.

“Please.” Inoue steps forward. She stops when Ichigo twitches, only moving when he stills again. She stops a few meters away. “May I heal him?” she asks Kisuke, but her eyes stay on Ichigo.

He’s almost forgotten how wounded Ichigo was when he entered. Now Kisuke is treated to a perfect view of the scars on Ichigo’s back, some still bleeding sluggishly despite the regenerative powers of a Hollow. He has to fight down the anger again, before it can alarm Ichigo and wreck the calm they’ve managed to make.

“Ichigo?” Kisuke asks. He hadn’t even realized he’s been stroking the rough skin on Ichigo’s tail. They wait a few more agonizing moments, before Ichigo nods his permission.

She covers the remaining distance with long strides, her hands already going to her clips. Her clothes are soaked with sweat and blood. There’s a barely healed gash on her cheek. But her eyes are fierce.

The others take that as permission to talk. “We don’t have much time,” Ishida says, adjusting his glasses. If Kisuke focuses, he can see the trembling in his hands. “The Espada know where we are.”

Sado nods, his arms crossed. “They’ll be chasing after us soon enough.”

“We need to get out of here,” Arisawa says. Her clenched fists haven’t relaxed since she entered the room. “We’ve got Ichigo back, now we have to get out before they try to get Inoue too.”

“And just tell me,” Abarai says, sarcasm dripping, “How we’re supposed to sneak out a Hollow at least twice our size?”

Kuchiki backhands him in the gut. He folds with a wheeze.

“I think... I can reject the Hollowfication,” Inoue says, her expression determined. “If I try-”

**“No,”** Ichigo rasps. Everyone whips around to face him. It's the first word he's spoken around his friends.  **“Don't.”**

"Why?" Yoruichi asks, her eyes narrowed.

**“Hollows... perceive the world... differently.”** Kisuke's eyes widen. Ichigo's jaw drops in a predatory grin.  **“Sense of smell... is stronger. Reiatsu sensing is better.”** The more Ichigo talks, the smoother his speech becomes.  **“Sense of sight, not so important. Sense of touch either. Too much armor. And** **_he_ ** **can't mimic that. Not perfectly.”**

“Can you tell where he is?” Kisuke asks.

Ichigo tilts his head. His masked sneer widens.  **“I can tell where he is.”**

Answering smiles stretch across their faces. Arisawa's grin alone can be seen from miles away. She punches her palm. The light in her eyes is feral. “Then let's get him.”

 

* * *

 

“We still haven’t figured out how we’re going to escape,” Ishida points out.

**“Ah.”** Ichigo shakes himself, stretching. His tail thumps against the ground.  **“Gimme a sec.”** He pauses, then adds,  **“You guys better stand behind me.”**

Rukia shoots him a suspicious look, even as she follows. She knows that casual tone too well. “What are you planning?”

Ichigo blinks at her. Slowly, the tip of his tail rises into the air and starts to wag.

“That,” Renji declares, “is just disturbing.”

 

* * *

 

It's not enough. For Aizen to fall so easily would be a miracle. But a giant Hollow with the strength of a Vasto Lorde batting Aizen around the sky? It will be a memory for Kisuke to relish until the end of his days. And with said giant Hollow always leaping for the true source, even if he missed half the time, their allies are able to dart in and out and cut Aizen down, piece by little piece.

The battle doesn't last long enough for the Hogyoku to awaken fully. Ichigo rips Aizen to shreds, tosses the Hogyoku in the air, and charges a cero.

“Ah,” Arisawa says. Considering the arm hanging limp at her side and the blood running down her face, her voice is oddly light. “Move, move, would be best to move-”

“A cero?” Hiyori says, incredulous. “If all it took was a cero we'd have done it ages ago!”

“No, seriously, move-”

Hirako is smart enough to know when to listen. He hops over some debris at knee-height and joins the Humans huddled out of range of Ichigo’s thrashing tail. The Visored follow his cue. Kyouraku looks amused but follows, which means Ukitake joins him too. The wary lag behind. Thankfully, they also happen to be the ones fast enough to get out of the way when Ichigo fires. (Though, perhaps, a little singed.)

The earth shakes under the force of the Gran Rey Cero.

Ichigo sits back on his haunches, his tail curling around his feet.  **“Now nobody can have it,”** he says, satisfied.  **“If it lasted through that.”**

“He leveled Las Noches like that,” Arisawa’s whisper travels with the breeze the Cero left behind.

“Urahara Kisuke,” Yamamoto says.

“It should fall back asleep without power or will to draw on,” Kisuke confirms. He doesn't stop the smug grin from spreading across his face as every Visored and Human in the vicinity puts a hand on their weapon at his approach, coincidentally all standing between the Soutaichou and Ichigo. Kuchiki, Abarai,  _ and  _ Hitsugaya straighten where they stand too.

The old man harrumphs, but says nothing.

There’s soot on the hem of his haori. Kisuke beams.

**“It was already deteriorating when he used it on me, anyway,”** Ichigo rumbles.

The Soutaichou turns to him. “And you, Shiba Ichigo? What will you do now that you have that form?”

Ichigo’s tail lashes. It’s the only sign of his discomfort that he can’t hide. Three days isn’t really enough time to learn how to control a new appendage.

Hirako’s grin turns sharp. “Oh? That doesn’t sound nice.” The Visored shift. Their hands are no longer on their sword hilts but  _ around  _ them.

“Ah, see, about that…” Kisuke steps forward.

“We got it covered!” Arisawa blurts. Red floods her face as every gaze in the vicinity turns to her. “I mean, that is-”

“I’ll take care of it,” Inoue interjects, her voice firm. She twitches but stands her ground as everyone looks at her. “With, with Urahara-san’s help of course.”

The Soutaichou’s centuries old gaze is heavy on Kisuke’s shoulders. He looks at the old man and gives him a very specific shopkeeper’s beam.

“I’ll need at least a year of constant contact with Ichigo to fix it,” he says.

Yamamoto lets out an uncharacteristic snort. “Six months.”

“Done.”

“I hope you didn’t mean that literally,” Kyouraku teases, making Ukitake groan and his lieutenant squeak a scandalized  _ ‘Taichou!’ _

Kisuke jumps as a certain someone’s tail thumps him on the back of his legs. And maybe his ass. It’s a thick tail; it’s hard to tell where Ichigo was aiming.  **“Don’t barter over me like some chicken.”**

“Sorry, sorry.” The small smile he gifts to Ichigo is entirely different from the one he gave Yamamoto. Ichigo huffs, but leans down so Kisuke can put a hand on his jaw anyway.

He’ll have to talk it over with Ichigo later, after they’ve rested, recovered, and let the nightmares wring them out. He’ll respect his soulmate’s wishes, of course. But the power he gained might be enough to put him on par with Shinji, a Visored and captain-class shinigami both. And Kisuke’ll be damned if he passes up a chance to arm his soulmate with power even the highest of the Gotei 13 would balk at.

He won’t let anyone take Ichigo away from him. Never again. This, he vows, with all the power and possessiveness of the crimson princess inside.

And from the way Ichigo’s tail curls around his ankle, his soulmate agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost to the end! There's just the epilogue left from here ^_^ Thanks so much for all your patience and support!


	4. my soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

“I can't believe it took a hundred years to promote Shiba,” Hisagi says, slamming down his empty sake cup. He nudges Kira for more.

“You should hear him say it: ‘I can't believe it took two hundred years to get rid of a psychopath!’” Matsumoto throws her head back and laughs. Out of the three of them, she’s the one most entertained by the uproar that has slowly taken over Soul Society in the past ten years. “Did you- did you _hear_ -”

“Probably,” Kira mutters, ignoring the woman slumping against him in her fit of giggles. “Considering we were right outside when it happened.”

Matsumoto takes a deep breath, then pitches her voice low. An exaggerated scowl takes over her face. “‘Are you telling me you didn't have enough captain level shinigami to kick out a nutter, but you had enough shinigami that _could have grown into captain level shinigami_ to use as experimental fodder?’” She has to pause, her laughter taking over. After a moment of air, she wheezes out, “‘Sir?!’”

“I’m- I’m pretty sure it didn’t happen like that!” Hisagi splutters. There’s a wild look in his eyes, only half-induced by the sake cup he had just emptied… again. “I should know! I wrote an article on it!”

“Maybe your memory isn’t as good as you thought, Hisagi! Maybe-” Matsumoto takes on a horrified face so overblown it looks comical. Not that Hisagi can tell the difference right now. “-you just published wrong information for your readers!”

Hisagi’s color pales so fast he sways in his seat.

Kira slaps a hand over his face.

“Where is our new Twelfth Division taichou anyway?” he asks. Matsumoto ever so helpfully refills his and Hisagi’s cups, letting him knock back another round. Anything to help him get through the general mania of Soul Society, exemplified by his friends. “Shouldn’t he be here, rearranging his new office to his liking?”

The wide leer across Matsumoto’s face is so sudden it makes Kira jump. “Oh, you know,” she sings, raising her cup like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “Where he is every weekend…

“With his housewife.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m home,” Ichigo says, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. It’s only been four days since his instatement, and he feels exhausted. He stretches, relishing in the feeling of muscles straining after hours in a chair. He twitches as his sleeveless haori swishes with the movement, still unused to it.

He has yet to finish sorting through the list of his subordinates, checking which ones need therapy and which ones need investigation. Not to mention that mess with Nemu he needs to fix. It’s an awkward situation all around, seeing as he _did_ get her father figure imprisoned. Maybe he should just let Matsumoto and the Women’s Association handle it-

“ _Welcome home, honey!_ ”

His eye twitches.

“I call you that one time-!” He yells at the blond walking towards him. Kisuke snaps his fan open and does an unfortunately accurate imitation of a woman simpering. “I was just telling you what Matsumoto said! _Will you stop that?_ ”

“I happen to like being a housewife to an esteemed captain of the Gotei 13,” Kisuke says, beaming.

“And I happen to like coming home to you when you’re not being silly, so quit it,” Ichigo says flatly. And yet, Kisuke still sees the red bloom across his cheeks, giving his face a lively glow. His smile softens to something warm, reflecting the warmth in his heart he never thought he’d let himself feel. Ichigo’s blush deepens, even as he shoots Kisuke a look.

Kisuke drops his fan and tilts his head to the side in a nod. Satisfied, Ichigo moves to step around him. Kisuke stops him with a hand on his arm and leans in for a kiss. It’s short, and sweet. They stay there like that for a moment, foreheads pressed together, basking in the shared glow of being together again.

At last, Kisuke pulls away. They head for Kisuke’s lab, walking close enough for their hands to brush.

The first week Ichigo spent back in Soul Society had left both of them humming with mirrored anxiety, as far as their bond let them share across worlds. Nightmares that had been fading slowly in the past six months came roaring back with a vengeance. Ichigo had taken leave the moment he had been able to. They spent the next two days just being together, taking comfort in each other’s presence.

After a while, it became a regular occurrence, enough that everyone stopped questioning it. On weekdays, Shiba would be working overtime, both to fulfill his own requirements and his own personal project. On weekends, he’d be at the Human World, “experimenting with his soulmate,” according to Matsumoto. Wink and nudge included.

Ichigo would yell at her for it, but it’s not like he’s got a leg to stand on.

They walk in silence until they reach the lab. Ichigo heads straight to the sofa and flops down with a sigh.

“How was the inauguration?” Kisuke asks. Ichigo shifts just enough so he can look at him, only to wrinkle his nose when his new uniform protested at the movement.

“Awkward,” he grunts. With a muffled curse, he sits up just so he can shuffle out of his haori. He tosses it over the back of the sofa and falls back down. He kicks his feet up onto the sofa arm. “‘Welcome your newest member, who had his predecessor court martialed.’”

Kisuke pokes at a blob of synthesized matter, sitting on a tray. “It couldn’t have been as bad as mine,” he says, the humor fading quickly into something wry. He’d known what he had done when he pulled Mayuri out of the Maggot’s Nest. And he had faced his own backlash for it in his time. Maybe if he hadn’t-

The blob wobbles.

“Oi.” He turns to find Ichigo pointing at him. His soulmate’s stern expression is a lot less intimidating upside down. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to apologize for this too!”

Kisuke’s lips stretch into a sheepish smile. “I thought I could keep him in check,” he explains, tapping his observations onto a small keypad without looking. “And then… let’s just say circumstances occurred to prove otherwise.”

“Circumstances out of your control.” It’s embarrassing how much Kisuke loves how stubborn Ichigo is.

“Circumstances out of my control,” he agrees. “And yours.”

Ichigo’s face takes on a darker cast, but he doesn’t deny it. “I fixed it, though.”

“You did.” Kisuke doesn’t have to say anything. He knows Ichigo can feel his gratitude. It won’t take back all the lives lost, but it went a long way to making sure it doesn’t happen again.

“Speaking of,” Ichigo says suddenly, breaking the heaviness that had begun to seep into the room, “I finished the paperwork today. First thing I did.”

“Paperwork?” Kisuke blinks at him. “Which ones?” He grins, light and teasing. Memories of stacks of paper flit around in the back of his mind.

Ichigo’s answering grin is sharp. “The ones for you.”

Kisuke pauses, turning those words in his head. His first reaction had been alarm, but- “You know I-”

“-won’t work for the Gotei 13 again, yeah.” Ichigo’s face is solemn. He twists to the side, so he can face Kisuke properly now, instead of upside down. “And you won’t. I’ve prepared a contract appointing you as research consultant for the SRDI. You’ll be working under-”

“-you,” Kisuke finishes. He stares at Ichigo, wonder and shock in equal measure. His soulmate rubs the side of his nose, embarrassed.

“Not really. Like I said, you’re a consultant. It’s mostly in name. You can work on your own experiments. You don’t even have to live in Seiritei. If we ever need help, we’ll just ask you.”

Kisuke slips his experiment into a container and puts it away. He wipes his hands with a rag. “Tessai-san and the children?”

“They can stay with you,” Ichigo confirms.

“My shop?” Kisuke teases, even as his mind whirls through the possibilities.

Ichigo’s lips twitch. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Kisuke hates the Gotei 13 for what they did. But Soul Society is still _home_. A century won’t be enough to change that.

And Ichigo is helping him go back.

Kisuke puts his rag down and turns to face Ichigo. “How did you convince the Soutaichou to let you do this?” he asks, his voice soft.

Ichigo’s smile becomes a full-on smirk. “I took my usual leave of absence. Then I told him I’ll do it again. And again.” He shrugs, faux casual. “Apparently, it’s unacceptable for a captain to be away from his post for so long. I just told him I can’t work without seeing you at least once a week.”

A few steps is all it takes to bring him to Ichigo’s side. He sinks to his knees, putting him level with Ichigo. “Just a few days as a captain, and already causing trouble,” he murmurs.

He gets a close up view of Ichigo’s laugh. Ichigo’s nose wrinkles, like he doesn’t want to let it out, but the snort comes through anyway, his lips breaking into an involuntary smile. It lights up his face. “I was already causing trouble long before I became captain,” he says, waving a hand.

Kisuke takes Ichigo’s hand and presses it against his lips. “Thank you.”

Ichigo’s eyes glitter with something unspoken. “I love coming home to you,” he repeats. Frank, straightforward. No hesitation. “So now I can come home to you every day.”

Kisuke’s grip on his hand tightens. In return, so does Ichigo’s. It feels like they’re holding on to each other – two people as one anchor, against the whirling world and the rush of emotion threatening to sweep them away.

“Hey.” Ichigo’s soft voice draws him out of his thoughts. He reaches out with his free hand, tracing Kisuke’s cheek with the tips of his fingers. Kisuke watches his eyes flutter, and knows Ichigo can feel the gentle touch on his skin too.

Ichigo smiles. “Tell me what you’re working on?”

And Kisuke smiles back.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand, that's it! Thank you all so much for following me on this wonderful journey! I'm grateful for everyone's support. I'm still away from home, so I can't reply to everyone's comments just yet, but for sure I will when I get back. Also, I've queued the rest of the material on this fic to post on my blog over the next two days, so don't forget to check it out!
> 
> Again, thanks so much everybody! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus content like deleted scenes and live ranting from moi mid-writing over [here!](http://fleeting-white-feathers.tumblr.com/tagged/uraichi+soulmate+au) Feel free to hmu to scree or ask questions or whatever suits your fancy. Also, join the uraichi discord server too! Lots of fun people, fun plunnies, and fun shenanigans going on in general. We'd be happy to have you!
> 
> Ps. title of work and of the chapters from [Love Runs Out by OneRepublic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-j-n-XJ-Tg), which is also this fic's theme song, by the way

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Children, Children in our Hearts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14853026) by [InfinityIllusion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfinityIllusion/pseuds/InfinityIllusion)




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